)rni| 
al 


Victoria 


DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

HILDA  AGAINST  THE  WOBLD 

THE  NIGHT  OF  TEMPTATION 

THE  LIFE  SENTENCE 

A  GIHL  OF  THE  KLONDYKE 

Six  WOMEN 

Six  CHAPTERS  OF  A  MAN'S  LIFE 

TO-MORHOW? 


Just  as  the  sun  was  losing  its  fierceness,  they  started. 


BY 

VICTORIA  CROSS 


f 


NEW  YORK 
THE  MACAULAY  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1920,  by 
VIVIEN  CORY  GRIFFIN 

Copyright,  1921,  by 
VIVIEN  CORY  GRIFFIN 

'All  rights  reserved 


FEINTED  IN  THE  U.   S.   A. 


DEDICATED 

TO 

MY  BELOVED  AND  ADORED 
MOTHER 

THE  INSPIBER  OP  ALL  MY  WORK,  WHOSE  SPIRIT 
LIVES  EVER  IN  MY  SOUL,  AND  WHO,  BY  REASON 
OF  HER  GLORIOUS  BEAUTY,  DIVINE  GIFTS,  AND 
THE  WONDERFUL  GREATNESS  OF  HER  CHARACTER, 
WAS  HERSELF  MOST  TRULY  A  DAUGHTER  OF  HEAVE 27 


2134305 


CONTENTS 

PAG* 

I  THE  BACHELOR    ...     ..     .     m    ,„  w  ,.,  ll 

II  THE  VISION  OF  LOVE    ..    ,.,    M  m  l%  32 

III  THE  PRICE  OF  AN  HOUR  ..    ...  «  ,„  46 

IV  THEIR  HONEYMOON      .     ,.,    ,„  ,.,  lw  67 
V  TRIUMPH      ........  ,.  ,.  99 

VI     MORE  CRUEL  THAN  THE  BEAST  OF 

PREY 131 

VII     PLAYING  THE   GAME     .     .    ,„    ,.     ,.   183 

VIII     THE  BUTTERFLIES'  DANCE  :w    ,.,     .  228 

IX    THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE   ,  .  256 


Sons  and  Daughters  of  Heaven, 

What  is  your  heritage  here? 
Pain  and  sorrow  and  sighing, 

Weeping  and  toil  and  care. 

Sons  and  Daughters  of  Heaven, 

What  is  your  guerdon  above? 
Triumph,  fulfilment,  rejoicing, 

Peace  and  infinite  love. 

Would  you  exchange  for  earth's  playthings 

Visions  your  eyes  have  seen? 
Would  you  lose  the  amaranth  flowers 

For  coins  of  golden  sheen? 

Wealth  and  Pleasure  and  Power, 

And  all  that  this  world  can  give 
Are  nothing  to  you,  O  children, 

Whom  God  has  taught  how  to  live. 

Your  eyes  with  truth  are  shining, 

Your  feet  with  light  are  shod; 
Your  thoughts  are  fixed  on  Heaven, 

Your  spirit  dwells  with  God. 

What  is  to  you  the  darkness, 

The  travail  of  the  way  ? 
You  walk  with  steps  unfaltering 

Towards  Eternal  Day. 

VICTORIA  CROSS. 


DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 


DAUGHTERS  OF 
HEAVEN 

THE  BACHELOR 

YES:  he  was  a  bachelor  and  he  had  never 
wished  to  be  anything  else  till  he  went 
for  his  holidays  one  year  to  the  Yellowstone 
Park,  one  of  the  most  mysteriously  beautiful 
places  in  the  world.  He  stayed  at  the  Foun- 
tain Hotel,  and  opposite  him  at  the  narrow  din- 
ing-table  sat  the  girl  who  was  to  change  his 
views.  She  was  small  and  fair,  with  fluffy  sunny 
hair  and  blue  eyes,  and  seemed  overshadowed 
by  a  somewhat  grim-looking  aunt  who  sat  be- 
side her.  He  soon  found  out  they  were  Eng- 
lish, travelling  for  pleasure,  and,  with  true 
American  dash,  not  only  obtained  an  introduc- 
tion but  had  won  over  the  aunt  on  the  second 
day  of  his  stay.  On  the  third  he  had  persuaded 
them  to  a  moonlight  stroll  round  the  paint 

pots,  or  mud  geysers,  and  looking  at  the  girl's 

11 


12     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

delicate  face  in  the  silver  light,  felt  his  heart 
beat  in  the  real  romantic  way.  She  seemed  so 
ethereal,  so  dainty,  so  refined!  she  appealed  to 
him,  perhaps  because  she  was  something  so 
different  from  himself.  He  was  a  great  big, 
strong  fellow — a  typical  American,  straight 
and  tall,  with  a  good  figure  and  fine  features, 
all  of  which  the  blue  eyes  saw  with  pleasure, 
and  so  they  smiled  prettily  on  him  whenever 
he  looked  at  her.  He  had  a  large  heart,  full 
of  friendliness,  and  a  hand  always  ready  to 
help  the  weak  or  injured  or  oppressed.  He 
had  sentiment,  too,  though  in  New  York  his 
was  counted  amongst  the  hardest  heads,  senti- 
ment that  made  him  feel  attracted  towards  all 
that  was  fragile  and  delicate.  He  would 
watch  the  white  butterflies  that  floated  in  at 
his  office  window  in  the  spring  with  kindly 
eyes,  and  their  confidence  was  never  abused. 

The  aunt  liked  him,  as  did  everyone  else, 
and  generally  spoke  of  him  to  her  niece  as 
"that  lively  American."  The  niece  liked  him 
even  better  than  the  aunt  did,  and  generally 
thought  of  him  as  "that  handsome  American." 


THE  BACHELOR  13 

They  went  for  numerous  walks  together,  the 
girl  and  the  man  alone,  without  any  chaperon, 
as  the  sensible  American  custom  allows.  The 
aunt  did  not  want  to  walk  the  long  distances, 
and  after  suitable  remonstrance  gave  in  to  her 
persuasive  niece. 

"You  couldn't  do  it  in  England,  Eva,"  the 
elder  lady  remarked. 

"No,  but  Neil  Johns  is  an  American,  he'll 
understand  it,  and  it  will  be  all  right,"  replied 
the  younger,  and  won  her  point  and  enjoyed 
her  walks,  in  which  both  she  and  the  American 
learnt  something  of  each  other  and  liked  what 
they  learnt,  and  incidentally  saw  much  of  the 
mystic  charm  of  the  park,  one  of  the  brightest 
jewels  in  America's  crown  of  beauty. 

Two  weeks  slipped  by  pleasantly  while  they 
visited  the  different  pools — wonderful  magic 
pools  of  emerald,  of  deep  cobalt,  of  lightest 
sapphire — and  listened  awestruck  to  the  mut- 
terings  and  groanings,  the  stifled  threats  and 
moans  of  the  waters  imprisoned  beneath  their 
feet — two  weeks  of  August  weather,  sunny  and 
beautiful,  and  yet  with  occasional  skifts  of 


14     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

snow,  for  at  eight  thousand  feet  up  it  is  never 
too  hot,  even  in  August,  and  with  frosty  morn- 
ings when  the  hoofs  of  the  deer  rang  sharply 
on  the  hard  glittering  roads. 

One  day  about  the  middle  of  the  month  there 
was  excitement  in  the  hotel.  The  fountain 
geyser,  the  finest  in  the  park,  was  announced  to 
be  going  to  play  at  midnight  that  night,  and  a 
brake  or  coach  would  be  ready  to  take  any  of 
the  guests  who  wished  to  see  it  to  the  pool, 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  hotel.  Only 
at  intervals  of  many  years  did  this  particular 
geyser  rise  in  its  glory,  and  no  absolutely  cer- 
tain date  could  ever  be  fixed  for  it,  as  it  was  the 
most  capricious  in  the  Yellowstone.  None  of 
the  guests  then  in  the  hotel  had  ever  seen  it 
play,  though  many  were  on  their  third  or  fourth 
yearly  visit  to  the  park.  Calculations  had  been 
made  of  the  time  since  the  last  display,  and  it 
was  thought  without  doubt  the  time  had  come 
round  again. 

So  the  idea  of  the  visit  to  it  by  night  was  en- 
thusiastically welcomed,  a  supper  was  served 
at  eleven,  and  a  little  before  midnight  the 


THE  BACHELOR  15 

coach  came  round  and  was  filled  to  overflowing 
with  tourists  of  all  nationalities.  A  merry, 
rollicking  crowd  they  were,  laughing  and 
shouting  and  jesting  good-humouredly  in  the 
scramble  for  places.  A  few  minutes  more  and 
they  were  off  at  a  canter  down  the  white  road. 

It  was  a  glorious  night;  the  moon  filled  the 
sky  with  radiance,  and  threw  its  soft  light  over 
the  weird,  enchanting  landscape,  over  the  turfy 
grass  at  the  side  of  the  road,  over  the  gleaming 
white  areas  of  the  formations,  the  natural  pla- 
teau or  border  round  each  boiling  spring, 
formed  by  the  overflowing  of  its  lime  and  sul- 
phur charged  waters,  over  the  glistening,  boil- 
ing lakes,  and  shone  in  pale  rainbows  on  the 
veils  of  steam  that  hung  above  them.  All 
round,  far  off  on  the  horizon,  where  the  land 
rose  against  the  sky  like  the  edges  of  a  bowl, 
stood  a  belt  of  fir  trees,  black  and  impressive 
in  the  moonlight. 

Neil  and  Eva  sat  in  the  back  of  the  coach 
close  together,  and  felt  happy. 

When  they  arrived  near  the  geyser,  the 
coach  swept  off  the  high-road  over  a  green 


16      DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

grassy  trail  among  the  trees,  and  then  drew  up 
on  the  outer  edge  of  the  clearing — a  wide,  cir- 
cular space  five  hundred  yards  across — which 
was  the  home  of  the  fountain  geyser.  Green, 
mossy  grass  bordered  the  circle,  then  came  the 
court  of  the  formation,  its  smooth  limey  surface 
gleaming  white  in  tfoe  moonlight,  with  little 
boiling  streams  wandering  here  and  there  on  it, 
and  in  the  centre,  the  pool  of  the  geyser  itself, 
black  as  ink,  boiling,  throwing  its  hot  breath  in 
curls  of  steam  upon  the  air. 

The  more  noisy  of  the  tourists  gave  a  shout 
of  delight  as  they  saw  it,  and,  scrambling  down 
from  the  coach,  dispersed  chattering  and  laugh- 
ing over  the  formation.  Neil  helped  his  com- 
panion down,  and  they  walked  together  to  the 
rim  of  the  pool.  Though  inactive  at  present,  a 
practised  eye  could  see  that  an  eruption  was  at 
hand.  The  agitated  waters  seethed  bubbling 
to  the  brink,  where  they  lapped  over  steaming, 
sending  rivulets  in  all  directions  over  the  flat 
court.  The  pool  was  unusually  full  and  the 
surface  heaved  with  a  continual  swaying  move- 
ment. 


17 

The  man  and  girl  stood  staring  down  into  the 
troubled  depths  for  a  few  moments  in  silence. 
Then  the  girl  looked  up  and  round,  at  the 
stately  trees  on  the  edge  of  the  forest  which 
loomed  black  and  impenetrable  round  them,  at 
the  turfy  margin  where  the  other  tourists  al- 
ready satisfied  with  their  inspection  had 
grouped  themselves  together  to  await  the 
"burst  up,"  as  they  familiarly  called  it,  at  the 
clear  sky,  ablaze  with  stars,  stretching  over  all. 

"We  might  make  those  folks  a  fire,  they 
look  pretty  cold,"  remarked  the  American  re- 
flectively. "There's  lots  of  wood  about,"  and 
as  the  girl  readily  assented,  they  went  off  to 
gather  up  the  old  sticks  which,  as  always  in 
these  mountain  forests,  lay  strewn  in  all  direc- 
tions, bleached  and  dry,  looking  in  the  moon- 
light like  the  old  and  whitened  bones  of  skele- 
tons, and  adding  to  the  weird  ferocity  of  the 
scene. 

His  idea  was  soon  taken  up,  and  while  the 
women  had  shawrls  and  rugs  spread  out  for 
them  and  were  told  to  sit  still  and  watch  for 
events,  the  men  all  started  after  wood  in  every 


18     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

direction.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  a  roar- 
ing camp-fire  blazed  merrily,  throwing  a  rich, 
red  light  over  the  marble-like  floor  of  the  for- 
mation and  ruby-like  reflections  on  to  the 
steaming  flats  of  water  that  stretched  out  now 
stealthily  even  to  the  edge  of  the  turf.  They 
sat  round  the  fire  and  told  stories  and  sang 
songs,  and  wore  the  first  hour  away. 

Then  when  one  and  two  o'clock  had  come 
and  passed,  the  cold  and  monotony  of  waiting 
began  to  tell  upon  them.  First  one  and  then 
another  grew  horribly  sleepy  and  yawned. 
The  women  shivered  and  dozed  in  their  wraps, 
and  at  last  one  man  said  decisively : 

"I  reckon  the  thing's  not  going  to  work.  I 
am  going  right  along  home." 

This  was  the  signal  for  the  whole  party  to 
rise  with  cheerful  acquiescence.  Most  of  them 
were  so  sleepy  they  had  ceased  to  care  whether 
the  geyser  played  or  not.  Only  Eva  sat  still. 
She  did  not  look  sleepy  nor  cold.  Neil  bent 
over  her. 

"I  feel  quite  sure  the  geyser  is  going  to  rise 
and  pretty  soon  now.  Wouldn't  you  like  to 


THE  BACHELOR  19 

stay  a  little  longer,  or  would  you  be  afraid?" 

She  looked  up  quickly. 

"Afraid!  I  shouldn't  be  afraid  anywhere 
with  you,"  she  answered,  and  the  American  felt 
his  heart  beat  with  pleasure. 

"The  coach  is  starting,  shall  we  let  it  go  and 
walk  home?"  he  asked,  as  the  last  tourist  swung 
himself  thankfully  up  the  side,  and  the  driver 
shouted  "All  aboard." 

"Yes,  we  can  walk  quite  well,"  she  answered; 
"let  the  coach  go." 

"Aren't  you  coming,  Neil?"  called  out  a 
friend. 

"No,  I  am  going  to  see  the  thing  through 
now  I  am  here,"  he  answered. 

"Well,  you'll  just  have  something  to  tell  us 
in  the  morning  if  the  old  thing  gets  up  after  all. 
Good  night!"  and  the  coach  rattled  off. 

It  was  very  still :  not  a  sound  came  from  the 
forest;  the  moon  dropped  slowly  through  the 
limpid  sky;  their  fire  had  burned  to  a  still,  red 
core  of  heat;  the  man  and  girl  sat  close  by  it 
watching.  Once  as  they  sat  without  speaking, 
one  of  the  Yellowstone  bears  came  out  of  the 


20      DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

surrounding  belt  of  trees  and  ambled  across  the 
open  space  in  front  of  them.  The  great,  vel- 
vety fellow  threw  his  head  over  his  shoulder 
and  looked  at  them  steadily  for  a  moment, 
snuffing  the  air,  then,  as  they  made  no  hostile 
movement,  he  ambled  on  and  disappeared  in 
the  forest.  They  waited  while  another  hour  of 
silver  silence  stole  by,  and  ever  the  boiling 
water  brimmed  over  the  edge  of  the  pool, 
spreading  itself  silently  towards  them,  like  a 
sinister  hand  groping  after  victims. 

Then  with  a  sudden  roar,  like  the  roar  of  a 
wild  beast,  and  a  tremor  that  ran  through  the 
whole  formation,  the  geyser  rose  in  its  majesty, 
the  surface  of  the  water  was  flung  upward,  the 
whole  mass  of  the  water  reared  itself  up  eighty 
feet  in  the  air,  boiling,  hissing,  shrieking  as  if  it 
were  a  soul  in  agony,  dazzling  white  in  the 
moonlight,  throwing  off  clouds  of  steam  which 
floated  away,  coloured  with  a  thousand  rain- 
bows, that  were  dissipated  in  the  silver  air  and 
spray  that  fell  like  showers  of  diamonds.  Un- 
like the  other  geysers,  from  the  surface  of 
which  rises  a  jet  or  narrow  column  of  water,  the 


THE  BACHELOR  21 

entire  volume  of  this  one  is  thrown  into  the  air 
and  remains  a  solid  standing  body  from  which 
great  limb-like  jets  of  water  are  pushed  out 
from  moment  to  moment.  The  whole  seems 
like  a  colossal  human  figure,  shrouded  in  a 
sheet,  struggling  violently  to  free  itself,  throw- 
ing out  its  arms  wildly,  this  way  and  that,  in 
mad  efforts  to  fling  off  its  clinging  stifling  veils, 
and  giving  vent  to  convulsive  smothered 
screams.  Illusion  is  complete,  and  the  two  sol- 
itary spectators  on  the  edge  sat  motionless, 
awe-struck,  staring  at  this  revelation  of  Nature 
in  agony.  Shrieking,  groaning  in  direst  pain, 
pitifully  imploring  for  help,  the  great  figure 
swung  from  side  to  side,  stretching  out  its  arms, 
enveloped  always  in  its  clinging  wrhite  drap- 
eries, now  towards  them,  now  towards  the  calm 
and  jewelled  sky.  Desperately  under  its  muf- 
fling sheet  of  white,  among  its  veils  of  steam, 
it  fought  and  struggled,  calling  aloud  to  the 
silent  heavens  for  relief,  for  liberation.  For 
twenty  minutes  the  twisting  mass  of  water 
stood  at  its  greatest  height,  then  it  sank  and 
fell  lower;  the  giant  prisoner,  as  if  exhausted, 


22     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

seemed  to  droop ;  the  wild  cries  changed  to  low 
moans. 

Eva  laid  a  hand  on  her  companion's  arm ;  he 
turned  and. saw  her  eyes  were  wide  with  atten- 
tion and  full  of  tears. 

"Isn't  it  wonderful?"  she  whispered.  "Is  it 
not  alm'ost  heartrending?  It  seems  as  if  it 
must  be  a  living  thing,  struggling  to  escape 
from  that  awful  boiling  cradle.  Look  at  it! 
'Look  now !  it  seems  to  beckon  us" 

With  a  louder,  more  piercing,  shriek  the 
geyser  had  again  risen  to  its  highest  pitch ;  the 
fury  of  the  tortured  water  was  at  its  height, 
swayed  slightly  by  the  draught  it  created. 
The  figure  seemed,  as  the  girl  said,  to  lean  to- 
wards them,  to  throw  out  its  white  waving  arms 
toward  them.  For  an  instant  only,  then  the 
body  staggered  and,  wavered  and  sank;  its 
strength  was  failing;  the  struggle  was  over. 
With  sobbing  cries,  like  those  torn  from  an  an- 
guished human  breast,  it  fell  back  exhausted  to 
its  prison  home.  Down,  lower  and  lower, 
never  ceasing  its  despairing  sobs,  it  descended, 
until  at  last  before  the  strained  eyes  of  the 


THE  BACHELOR  23 

watchers  there  was  nothing  but  the  smooth 
black  surface  of  the  boiling  pool.  The  appari- 
tion was  gone;  the  last  smothered,  gurgling 
groan  died  upon  the  air,  and  all  was  completely 
still ;  the  prisoner  was  drawn  back  to  its  terrible 
prison  from  which  through  the  dull  aeons  of 
the  years  it  had  tried  fruitlessly  to  escape- 
drawn  back  by  that  mysterious,  invisible,  irre- 
sistible force  that  is  the  law  of  its  being. 

The  girl  shivered. 

"How  sad  it  seems,"  she  said,  "to  look  on 
and  not  be  able  to  help.  Did  it  not  seem  in 
wild  distress  as  if  longing  to  leap  out;  it  was 
beautiful,  magnificent  but  terrible,  don't  you 
think?  I  feel  so  sorry  for  it."  The  American 
laughed. 

"Oh,  I  reckon  the  geyser  is  all  right;  you 
needn't  worry  about  it.  If  it  has  a  jollification 
and  a  burst  up  like  this  every  few  years  it  pre- 
vents it  getting  dull." 

"It  did  not  seem  very  happy,"  remarked  the 
girl  thoughtfully,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  black 
lake  in  front  of  them,  strangely  tranquil  now; 
motionless. 


24     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

The  man  glanced  round ;  it  was  nearing  four 
in  the  morning  and  the  moon  was  sinking. 
The  cold  was  great,  but  the  beauty  of  the  spec- 
tacle had  absorbed  their  attention  and  pre- 
vented them  feeling  it.  Now  the  biting  air 
pierced  home.  Neil  rose  to  his  feet. 

"We  must  be  getting  back,"  he  said. 

The  girl  looked  up,  and  the  great  stillness, 
the  sublime  solitude  of  the  vast  arena  in  which 
they  were,  the  beauty  of  the  mingling  lights, 
the  deep  glow  of  the  red  fire  and  the  fading 
moon-rays,  impressed  her  deeply.  The  scene 
had  all  that  fierce,  grand  beauty  of  America 
that  so  delights  the  eye  unused  to  it.  She  felt 
no  fear  of  the  cold  nor  of  the  solitude.  Look- 
ing up  at  his  tall,  strong  figure  above  her,  she 
felt  confident  that  he  could  protect  her  against 
all  dangers.  She  would  have  liked  to  stay 
there  and  watch  through  this  night  of  silent 
beauty,  till  the  dawn  came  up  again  in  all  its 
splendour.  She  rose  reluctantly. 

"I  will  come,"  she  said,  "but  I  must  go  and 
have  a  look  at  the  geyser  first.  I  feel  sorry  for 
it.  It  seemed  to  call,  appeal  to  me" 


THE  BACHELOR  25 

He  laughed  good-naturedly. 

"I'll  fetch  you  an  extra  wrap,"  he  answered. 
"Don't  go  near  the  edge,"  he  called  back,  as  he 
went  towards  the  camp  fire. 

The  girl  moved  over  the  formation  towards 
the  jagged  brink,  and  stood  there,  looking 
down  into  the  now  quiet,  black  mirror  of  the 
boiling  lake ;  little  swirls  of  steam  rose  from  it 
here  and  there.  The  moonlight  fell  on  her  and 
her  image,  dainty  and  fairy-like,  showed  in  the 
dark  mirror  beneath.  Suddenly  a  little  crack 
like  the  break  of  steel  ...  a  call  of  terror. 
Neil  turning  from  the  fire,  saw  the  slender  fig- 
ure disappear ;  a  volume  of  steam  rushed  up  as 
the  water  foamed  over  the  crumbling  edge. 
Like  a  madman  he  tore  to  the  brink  and 
plunged  in  after  her  as  the  formation  split  into 
long  fissures  under  his  feet.  A  projecting 
ledge  of  rock  about  four  feet  down  had  caught 
the  girl.  From  this  his  strong  arms  lifted  her, 
raised  her.  Scalded  and  blinded  he  struggled 
to  the  rim  and  half  threw,  half  pushed  her, 
maimed,  inert,  senseless  with  pain,  on  to  the 
solid  limestone.  The  water  hissed  and  foamed 


26     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

in  boiling  waves  to  his  shoulders  as  he  took  back 
its  prey.  The  next  moment  he  had  sprung 
out.  An  agony  such  as  he  had  never  dreamed 
of  in  his  life,  wrapt  him  from  knee  to  shoulder. 
He  staggered  back  with  her  to  the  bank  where 
their  coats  and  rugs  had  been  left. 

"Say,  are  you  hurt  very  much?  Are  you  in 
great  pain?" 

"Not  so  very  much,"  came  back  her  voice. 
It  was  only  a  whisper,  but  what  a  dreadful 
sound  of  pain  it  had !  He  looked  down  at  her 
face  in  the  bright  white  light.  It  was  like  mar- 
ble; but  the  eyes  were  dilated  and  strangely 
luminous ;  under  his  gaze  the  lips  trembled  into 
their  sweet  little  familiar  smile.  He  dropped 
to  his  knees  on  the  bank,  and  commenced  to 
wrap  a  rug  round  her  to  protect  her  from  the 
freezing  air.  As  he  did  so  an  irrepressible 
groan  of  agony  broke  from  him. 

"How  good  of  you  to  save  me!  How  good 
of  you!"  she  whispered.  He  bent  over  her. 
Such  an  overwhelming  sensation  of  love  for  her 
filled  him  that  for  the  moment  it  completely 
conquered  his  pain. 


THE  BACHELOR  27 

"Dearest,  if  we  both  get  through  this,  noth- 
ing shall  ever  part  us.  You  love  me — say  you 
do?" 

One  arm  came  round  his  neck;  the  other 
hung  helpless. 

"You  know  I  do;  I  love  you." 

"You  will  marry  me?" 

"Yes." 

The  black  pines  stood  round  in  their  sol- 
emn ring;  the  formation  gleamed  cruelly  be- 
hind him;  the  jagged  black  mouth  of  the  now 
silent  geyser  grinned. 

The  man's  agony  was  almost  unendurable, 
but  the  words  poured  new  strength  into 
him.  He  raised  his  head,  and  his  lips  were 
firm. 

"I  must  try  and  carry  you  home,  darling." 

"It  will  be  too  much  for  you,"  she  mur- 
mured. "You  must  be  so  hurt." 

"Xo,  you  are  no  weight.  I  shall  do  it  easily. 
I  like  to  carry  you.  Are  you  suffering  very 
much?" 

"Xo,  don't  worry  about  me." 

The  man  strode  on.     His  heavy  leather  boots 


28      DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

had  protected  his  feet — the  pain  was  not  there, 
well,  Heaven  be  thanked  for  that;  he  could 
walk.  From  the  middle  of  the  leg  to  the  waist 
he  felt  on  fire ;  the  torment  of  the  scalded  flesh 
lashed  him.  He  walked  at  a  furious  pace, 
though  the  sweat  broke  out  on  his  forehead 
from  sheer  agony,  and  rolled  down  his  face  in 
the  icy  night.  It  was  very  still,  the  road  white 
and  silent  before  him;  the  hills  in  their  beauti- 
ful outlines  on  the  horizon  showing  dark 
against  the  calm  and  radiant  sky.  How  long 
the  distance  seemed !  Would  it  never  end,  this 
long  white  road?  this  torture  of  burning  flesh? 
Yet  in  all  his  pain,  his  thoughts  leapt  about  as 
he  pressed  his  precious  burden  to  him.  How 
light  she  was!  How  like  those  white  butter- 
flies so  delicate  and  fragile.  Was  she  suffering 
much  he  wondered!  No,  she  would  faint  or 
cry  out  he  thought.  Her  eyes  were  wide  open, 
and  whenever  he  looked  down  at  her  she  smiled. 
Those  smiles  were  like  draughts  of  wine  to  him. 
Heaven  be  thanked!  She  could  not  be  much 
hurt  if  she  could  so  smile.  His  own  torture 
seemed  to  grow.  But  what  did  it  matter?  he 


THE  BACHELOR  29 

had  saved  her.  He  was  strong;  he  could  suf- 
fer and  set  his  teeth  and  not  care. 

At  last  the  hotel  came  in  sight.  At  the 
threshold  he  almost  fell,  stiff,  cramped,  ex- 
hausted, sick  with  pain.  He  was  just  able  to 
reach  a  bench  and  sink  down  on  it,  still  holding 
the  girl  in  his  arms.  His  head  swam.  As  in 
a  dream,  he  saw  first  one  white,  frightened  face 
peer  at  him,  then  another,  till  he  was  sur- 
rounded by  an  ocean  of  them.  His  burden  was 
taken  from  him  and  laid  on  another  bench. 
He  saw  a  man — a  doctor  he  supposed — bend 
over  it  and  lift  the  rug  away  he  had  so  care- 
fully wrapped  round  it.  How  still  the  girl  lay. 
A  terror  gripped  his  heart,  and,  with  agony  in 
every  movement,  he  staggered  on  to  his  feet 
again.  Some  hands  held  him  back,  at  the  same 
moment  he  heard  a  cold  measured  voice  say: 
"Nothing  is  of  any  use,  she  is  already  dead." 

He  tore  himself  away  from  the  detaining 
fingers  and  pushed  his  way  to  the  doctor's  side. 

"Dead?"  he  repeated  wildly.  "Why? 
Why?  I  got  her  out  at  once.  She  did  not 
seem  to  suffer  much.  What  has  killed  her?" 


30     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

He  saw  the  doctor's  cold,  unmoved  face  as 
in  a  red  mist.  He  heard  him  answer  as  from  a 
long  distance: 

"Shock,  I  should  say,  my  dear  sir,  and  the 
extreme  agony  she  must  have  been  in." 

Extreme  agony  for  her!  the  little  delicate 
white  butterfly!  And  she  had  smiled  at  him 
through  it  all  in  silence  as  he  had  carried  her! 
The  thoughts  seemed  to  strike  his  brain  like 
blows.  The  next  minute  all  was  dark  before 
his  eyes.  Then  suddenly  he  fell  with  a  crash 
amongst  the  awed  men  and  sobbing  women. 

"He  jumped  in  after  her!"  "He  risked  his 
life!"  "What  a  hero!"  "Jumped  into  the 
boiling  water!"  rj.n  in  whispers  round  him  as, 
shuddering,  some  of  the  men  stooped  and  car- 
ried him  over  the  threshold. 

•  •••••• 

Two  months  later  he  was  able  to  leave  the 
Yellowstone,  looking  aged  and  careworn,  with 
lines  of  pain  stamped  deep  in  his  face,  and 
many  seams  and  scars  upon  his  body,  but 
deper  far  than  any  was  the  scar  upon  his  mem- 
ory. Never  could  he  forget  the  red  agony  of 


THE  BACHELOR  81 

that  night  in  the  mountain  park,  nor  the  girl 
who  had  died  so  quietly,  in  such  a  brave  silence, 
in  his  arms :  the  little  white  butterfly  with  the 
courageous  soul,  and  so  he  is  still  a  bachelor. 


THE  VISION  OF  LOVE 

THE  corridor  above  the  great  hall  of 
Braithwaite  Abbey  was  wrapped  in  thick 
shadow,  the  only  light  in  it  seemed  to  emanate 
from  the  white  arms  and  shoulders  of  a  girl 
who  leant  on  the  balustrade,  looking  over  into 
the  space  beneath. 

Lamps  were  still  burning  there  though  mid- 
night had  already  struck,  and  her  eyes  fol- 
lowed wistfully,  intently,  the  movements  of  a 
man's  figure  below,  as  he  walked  restlessly 
backwards  and  forwards  over  the  great  stone 
flags. 

Every  now  and  then  he  would  stop  by  the 
open  hearth  and  pause  there,  looking  into  its 
dying  fire,  and  the  red  glow  fell  on  a  face,  hand- 
some in  every  line,  but  stamped  now  with  a  look 
of  absolute  despair. 

He  was  smoking  absently,  feverishly  it 
.seemed,  for  he  would  light  a  cigarette  and  then 
Jay  it  down  and  leave  it  to  go  out,  then  pick 

32 


THE  VISION  OF  LOVE          33 

it  up,  light  it  again  and  again  lay  it  down,  like 
a  man  whose  brain  takes  no  heed  of  what  his 
muscles  are  doing. 

Finally  he  threw  himself  into  a  chair  and 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  a  low  groan 
came  up  to  the  listening,  watching  girl. 

Her  white  hand  closed  hard  on  the  balus- 
trade at  the  sound,  and  she  leant  still  lower 
over  it,  while  the  eyes  that  gazed  down  upon 
him,  grew  more  intensely  yearning. 

Suddenly  the  man  started  up,  gathered  to- 
gether some  papers  on  a  table  near  him,  and 
with  a  decided  step  walked  across  the  hall  and 
disappeared  through  the  pillared  arches  at  the 
end. 

The  girl  above  waited,  but  he  did  not  come 
back,  and  after  a  few  minutes  she  turned  away, 
went  down  the  corridor  and  entered  her  own 
room. 

It  was  a  beautiful  room,  like  all  of  those  at 
the  Abbey,  and  it  struck  her  so,  as  she  turned 
the  switch  and  flooded  the  place  with  light,  but 
she  had  not  been  happy  there. 

Her  visit  came  to  an  end  tomorrow,  and 


34     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

but  for  leaving  him,  she  would  not  regret  it. 
Of  the  house-party  she  had  been  admitted  to 
be  the  least  important  and  least  noticeable 
guest,  and  such  a  fact  does  not  contribute  to 
a  woman's  pleasure;  also  she  was  the  poorest. 
All  her  clothes  were  just  a  little  less  fashion- 
able than  the  other  women's.  Not  rich  enough 
to  possess  a  maid,  her  hair  was  never  quite  so 
well  done  as  theirs.  The  youngest  of  any  of 
them,  even  this  seemed  against  her,  in  a  so- 
ciety where  smartness  was  everything. 

The  kindest  of  the  men  and  women  had 
simply  ignored  her,  the  others  had  laughed  at 
and  made  fun  of  her. 

But  now  it  was  over  and  she  was  going  and 
nothing  mattered  at  all,  except  that  she  was 
parting  from  him,  perhaps  never  to  see  him 
again.  He  had  been  the  only  thing  that  had 
really  mattered,  after  all,  the  whole  time.  She 
had  not  cared  very  much  when  the  women 
smiled  at  her  short  simple  frocks,  but  when  his 
great  dark  eyes  had  looked  over  her,  absently, 
as  if  he  did  not  see  her,  ah,  that  had  hurt !  And 
she  was  far  too  timid  to  speak  to  him !  one  is  so 


THE  VISION  OF  LOVE         35 

stupidly  timid  at  seventeen!  If  they  could 
only  have  had  one  little  talk  together,  how  she 
would  have  enjoyed  it!  but  he  had  always  been 
with  the  older  women,  those  witty,  laughing 
women,  or  the  men. 

Now  she  was  going  away,  and,  that  which 
seemed  so  dreadful,  she  knew  after  what  she 
had  seen  that  she  was  leaving  him  in  the  grip  of 
some  great  trouble. 

"What  can  it  be?"  she  asked  herself,  over  and 
over  again,  "money?  debts?  disgrace?  If  I 
only  knew!  if  I  could  only  help  him!"  And 
the  bitter  thought  came  quickly  in  answer — 
young,  poor,  insignificant,  she  could  do  noth- 
ing. 

It  seemed  as  if  it  would  be  impossible  to 
sleep.  She  sat  there,  tense,  motionless,  hear- 
ing that  terrible  groan  he  had  given,  in  all  the 
air  about  her.  Then  suddenly  she  rose  and  un- 
dressed and  threw  herself  on  the  bed  in  a  pas- 
sion of  tears.  "I  can  do  nothing,  nothing. 
What  is  the  use  of  loving  a  person  if  one  is  poor 
and  helpless  ?" 

While  all  sound  gradually  died  down  into 


36     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

silence  and  even  the  girl  fell  asleep,  worn  out 
with  tears,  the  man  downstairs,  Eric  Allan, 
paced  up  and  down  his  room  on  the  lower  floor, 
in  an  agony  of  indecision  and  despair. 

Wonderfully  handsome  and  attractive, 
young,  as  the  thick,  black  hair  and  strong,  lis- 
som figure  testified,  with  all  the  best  gifts  the 
Gods  can  give,  in  his  hands,  his  straight,  beau- 
tiful features  seemed  contracted  with  misery, 
his  clear,  smooth  skin  drawn  and  lined  with 
pain. 

"What  a  fool  I  have  been!"  he  exclaimed  to 
himself,  coming  up  to  the  table  and  letting  his 
haggard,  burning  eyes  wander  over  its  disor- 
dered piles  of  papers.  "Debts,  summonses, 
claims,  and  nothing  to  meet  them  with;  and 
now  not  able  to  pay  even  Carlyon  my  card 
debts.  It's  time  I  went,  I  think.  Why  not 
shoot  myself  and  have  done  with  it  all?"  He 
flung  himself  into  a  chair  and  stared  blankly 
opposite  him. 

"I  can't  raise  another  penny  anywhere  that 
I  can  see.  .  .  .  That  game  to-night,  I  only 
played  to  get  something,  and  then  lost.  ...  I 


THE  VISION  OF  LOVE          37 

wonder  if  Carlyon  plays  straight?  .  .  .  Don't 
let  me  begin  to  doubt  my  host.  No,  it's  my 
own  fault.  I  think  a  pistol  is  the  best  cure  for 
me." 

There  was  a  long  silence  while  the  man 
thought,  heavy,  painful  thoughts  that  drag 
across  the  brain,  cutting  it. 

"There  seems  no  way  out,  nothing  I  can  do 
...  of  course  I  could  work.  There  must  be 
something  I  am  fit  for,  but  then  ...  is  it 
worth  it?  I  don't  know  that  this  life's  much 
fun  ...  I  have  done  most  things.  ...  I 
wonder  what  love  is?  I've  never  met  that. 
I  wonder  if  I  found  a  woman  now  who  really 
loved  me,  without  any  other  motive  whatever, 
I  should  feel  differently?" 

He  was  silent  again,  while  before  him,  passed 
in  review,  images  of  women  he  had  known  and 
now  knew,  beautiful  faces,  sweet  voices,  lovely 
forms,  but  always  floating  with  them,  came  a 
misty  memory  of  gold  and  jewels  given  them, 
of  sacrifices  made  for  them,  of  fresh  debts  con- 
tracted of  iron  fetters,  those  soft,  small  hands 
had  forged  for  him. 


38     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  again,  a  pallor  of 
death  on  his  face. 

"No,  curse  them  all,"  he  muttered.  "They 
have  only  helped  in  the  general  destruction. 
I  want  no  more  of  them.  I've  done  with  them 
and  this  maddening  existence.  One  shot  set- 
tles it  all." 

He  crossed  over  to  a  writing-table,  unlocked 
a  drawer  and  took  out  a  revolver.  He  looked 
it  over  carefully,  saw  it  was  loaded,  cocked  it, 
and  then,  suddenly,  the  creak  of  a  door  open- 
ing, startled  him.  He  turned  round  sharply. 
His  door  was  open,  and  on  its  threshold  stood 
the  fairest  being  he  thought  his  eyes  had  ever 
rested  upon.  He  stood  transfixed,  motionless, 
his  heart  beating.  A  girl  stood  there,  so 
young,  she  seemed  almost  a  child,  in  the  long, 
straight  night-gown  that  fell  to  her  little  bare 
ivory  feet  and  opened  at  her  throat,  showing  a 
warm  column  of  rose-tinted  neck.  Above  her 
brows  rested  masses  of  fair  hair,  which  fell  in 
shining  waves,  unbound  upon  her  shoulders. 
Her  face  was  very  pale,  delicate,  transparent 
almost,  and  her  eyes,  wide  open,  looked  fear- 


THE  VISION  OF  LOVE         39 

lessly  into  the  room  before  her.  The  man 
stood  still,  hardly  breathing,  expecting  her  to 
speak.  But  she  came  in  quite  silently  and 
without  a  sound,  glided  round  the  table  in  the 
centre,  softly,  gently,  avoiding  the  furniture, 
and  approached  him.  She  came  quite  close  to 
him,  and  then  raised  one  hand  and  laid  it  on  his 
arm  and  looked  into  his  face.  Allan  gazed 
down  upon  her,  and  his  whole  soul  seemed  sud- 
denly upraised  like  that  of  one  who  sees  a  heav- 
enly apparition.  In  that  countenance  was 
shining  love  unconcealed,  untrammelled,  ecsta- 
tic, that  glorious  vision  beautiful  that  men  and 
women  seek  to  banish  from  this  world;  inno- 
cent, appealing,  devoted,  unafraid,  love  looked 
up  to  him.  The  girl's  lips  were  a  little  parted, 
but  no  sound  came  from  them,  and,  gazing  into 
those  blue,  wide-open  eyes,  he  saw,  that,  tender, 
heavenly  though  they  were,  consciousness  was 
veiled  behind  the  cloud  of  sleep.  Nothing  was 
there  but  love,  that  love  which  was  part  of  her- 
self and  could  not  be  lost,  even  in  sleep.  Intel- 
ligence, meaning,  knowledge,  was  all  lost,  leav- 
ing love  alone  and  triumphant.  With  those 


40      DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

wonderful,  melting  eyes  on  his,  eyes  that 
seemed  to  speak  to  him  of  life's  mysteries  he 
had  still  to  learn,  she  put  her  other  hand  softly 
on  the  revolver  that  he  held,  closing  her  deli- 
cate fingers  round  and  over  the  muzzle,  and  the 
man  stood  still,  unable  to  move. 

He  recognised  the  girl  as  a  fellow  guest 
in  the  house,  he  saw  she  was  walking  in  her 
sleep,  but  his  inner-self  was  not  occupied  with 
these  things.  To  it,  she  was  Love  incarnate, 
come  into  that  room,  where  he  had  invoked 
Death,  to  drive  it  forth  and  triumph.  How 
lovely  she  was!  How  exquisite  in  that  tran- 
scending power  of  emotion!  Never  in  all  his 
life  had  he  seen  the  glory  we  call  "of  heaven"  so 
reflected  in  a  human  face.  And  suddenly  in 
one  mad  passionate  rush  of  feeling  that  shook 
him  from  head  to  foot,  he  realised  that  it  shone 
there  for  him.  He  had  called  it  there.  Un- 
conscious now  though  her  action  was,  love  for 
him  in  her  waking  moments,  was  its  hidden 
spring.  And  such  love!  in  a  form  of  earthly 
beauty,  he  saw  displayed  for  him,  the  whole 
dazzling  wonder  of  a  woman's  soul. 


THE  VISION  OF  LOVE          41 

The  thought  of  death  rolled  from  his  brain 
like  a  dark  cloud,  he  heard  all  the  voices  of 
triumphant  life  calling  in  his  heart  and  blood. 
Yes,  he  would  live !  and  into  those  dark  eyes  of 
his,  meeting  hers,  as  they  stood  there,  eyes 
which  had  never  seen  her  as  she  was,  till  now, 
came  such  a  fire  of  tenderness  and  passion  that 
it  reached  her  sleeping  brain  and  satisfied  it. 
Slowly  she  relaxed  her  hold  upon  the  weapon, 
yet  she  still  stood  gazing  at  him,  that  magic 
love  pouring  on  him  from  her  eyes.  "You 
promise  me?"  they  seemed  to  say,  and  Allan 
quivered  from  head  to  foot  with  the  longing  to 
seize  her  in  his  arms  and  press  his  lips  on  those 
flower-like  ones  before  him.  Never,  hitherto, 
had  he  denied  himself  a  kiss  that  he  could  get, 
but  here  he  felt  afraid.  He  could  not  trespass 
here.  She  was  too  sacred,  too  defenceless,  too 
divine.  A  few  seconds  more  they  stood  there, 
then  noiselessly,  slowly,  she  glided  from  his 
side,  passed  to  the  door,  over  the  threshold,  and 
was  gone.  For  a  moment  Eric  remained  spell- 
bound, gazing  at  the  door,  wondering  if  he  had 
seen  a  celestial  vision,  as  indeed  he  had.  To 


42     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

few  is  it  allowed  to  see  what  he  had  seen,  the 
inner  human  soul,  burning  in  the  white  flame  of 
passionate  love,  divested  of  every  other  qual- 
ity, free  from  all  those  shams  and  pretences 
that  cling  round  it  in  the  world,  apart  from  all 
self-interest,  deprived  even  of  consciousness  of 
self,  he  had  seen  this  and  he  recognised  it  was 
Divine. 

He  turned  to  the  long  windows  and  saw  the 
light  was  just  breaking.  With  his  wild,  im- 
petuous being  shaken  in  a  great  re-action,  he 
went  to  the  writing-table,  replaced  the  revolver 
in  the  drawer,  locking  it,  and  then  stepped  out 
upon  the  lawn.  All  round  him  was  the  dim 
radiance  of  a  spring  morning.  The  melody  of 
a  thousand  birds  filled  the  air,  the  whole  of  Na- 
ture's world  was  rejoicing;vand  in  a  mad  gust 
of  exultation,  he  realised  that  he  lived.  And 
had  she  not  come,  he  would  now  have  been  lying 
there  dead,  dishonoured,  blind,  deaf,  cold,  in- 
stead of  here  with  all  the  resistless  tide  of  his 
glorious  youth  and  health  and  strength,  surg- 
ing in  his  veins,  and  asking  him  how  he  could 
have  planned  its  destruction.  Why,  how  could 


THE  VISION  OF  LOVE         43 

he  have  thought  of  dying  for  a  few  wretched 
debts,  some  mere  worldly  considerations,  and 
leaving  all  this  rapture  of  the  earth  and  the 
stored  up  joyous  mysteries  of  a  woman's  love 
behind  him? 

He  walked  down  the  lawn  and  through  the 
grounds,  the  light  strengthening  all  about  him, 
just  as  the  hope  and  courage  seemed  growing 
within  himself.  With  buoyant  steps  he  went 
through  the  woods  where  the  gossamer  threads, 
sparkling  with  dew,  made  a  silver  splendour, 
and  back  by  soft,  mossy  paths  where  the  green 
shadow  was  deep  and  cool,  and  the  scent  of  the 
firs  floated  above  him.  He  regained  the  lawn, 
and  there  paused  for  a  long  time,  gazing  up  at 
the  grim,  grey  outlines  of  the  Abbey,  massed 
against  the  luminous  wonder  of  the  pearly  sky. 
All  the  wealth  and  power  and  worldly  good 
that  it  represented,  he  was  without,  and  those 
wordly  fetters  of  debt  that  he  had  taken  on 
himself  clung  to  him  still,  but  he  would  go  out 
into  the  wilderness,  and  somewhere  under  the 
blue  and  living  heavens  he  would  work  and 
work  till  all  was  paid  to  the  uttermost  farthing, 


44     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

and  his  honour  was  clear,  and  in  the  wilderness 
those  white  hands  should  lead  and  caress  him. 

Suddenly,  as  he  stood  there,  listening  to  the 
thrilling  joy  of  the  birds  poured  out  in  the  fra- 
grant air,  he  saw  a  slight  figure  in  blue  serge 
come  down  the  steps,  on  to  the  gravel  walk, 
and  went  forward  to  meet  it. 

The  girl  looked  pale  in  the  early  light,  and 
her  eyes  were  sad,  but  a  sweet  little  smile 
curved  her  red  lips  as  she  saw  him  advance. 

Eric,  with  all  the  hot  blood  in  his  head,  and 
his  brain  overturned  under  the  weight  of  the 
emotions  rolling  over  it,  longed  to  draw  her  into 
his  arms,  but  he  restrained  himself,  holding  out 
his  hand. 

"Miss-  Rivers,  Stella,  darling,  you  are  going 
away  to-day,  but  you  shall  not  go  alone.  Let 
us  go  together.  My  own,  will  you  marry  me? 
I  know  that  you  love  me." 

And  not  even  the  amaze,  the  bewilderment, 
the  wonder  in  all  her  startled  face,  could  hide 
the  conquering  delight  that  rushed  over  it  and 
shone  in  it.  His  quick  eyes  reading  this,  he 
drew  her  closer. 


THE  VISION  OF  LOVE          45 

"I  am  poor,  I  have  nothing,  I  am  dishon- 
oured, but  all  shall  be  redeemed.  Come  with 
me  into  the  wilderness  and  it  shall  blossom  like 
a  rose  for  us." 

"Eric,  I  don't  understand  ...  I  can't  think 
why  .  .  .  how  ...  it  all  is,  but,  oh  yes,  I  do 
love  you,  adore  you,  with  my  whole  soul  I  only 
want  to  be  with  you." 

And  then  in  that  passion  of  joy  that  Nature 
holds  locked  in  her  hands  for  each  one  of  us, 
and  that  is  worth  ten  thousand  times  all  the 
things  of  the  world,  its  mines,  its  armaments,  its 
wealth,  its  power,  he  threw  his  arm  round  her, 
and  they  kissed  in  the  light  of  the  young  day. 


THE  PRICE  OF  AN  HOUR 

OUTSIDE,  the  streets  were  wet  and 
dark,  and  the  yellow  November  fog  was 
creeping  slowly  about  in  them.  Inside  the 
large,  comfortable  study  of  the  Manwarings' 
house,  the  fire  blazed  cheerily,  the  electric  light 
threw  out  its  warm  radiance,  the  roar  of  Lon- 
don's voice,  beyond  the  solid  windows  and 
heavy  curtains,  sounded  muffled  and  far  away. 

John  Manwaring  stood  on  the  hearth-rug, 
and  his  wife  gazed  at  him  lovingly  from  the 
depths  of  the  armchair.  He  was  a  success !  and 
it  was  she  who  largely  had  made  him  so. 

As  all  men  do,  to  the  women  they  live  with, 
he  had  given  to  her  at  the  beginning  the  keys 
of  his  life.  In  her  hands  it  lay  whether  he 
should  succeed  or  fail,  be  ill  or  well,  happy  or 
unhappy.  Seven  years  since  their  wedding- 
day  had  gone  by,  and  he  had  succeeded,  he  was 
well,  he  was  happy.  She  looked  upon  her 
work  with  loving  pride. 

46 


THE  PRICE  OF  AN  HOUR      47 

He  had  won  his  seat  in  Parliament  by  a 
large  majority.  To-morrow  he  would  make 
his  first  speech  in  the  House.  To-night  he  was 
going  to  a  big  dinner  given  to  him  by  his  sup- 
porters. How  animated,  pleased,  elated  he 
looked!  She  delighted  in  gazing  on  him  and 
feeling  vibrate  through  her,  his  feelings  of  tri- 
umph, of  joy  in  his  life.  What  an  ovation 
awaited  him  to-morrow,  she  thought,  letting 
her  eyes  wander  slowly  over  the  dear  figure, 
straight  and  tall  and  exceedingly  pleasing,  to 
the  handsome  head,  the  black  hair,  the  fine  fore- 
head and  features,  the  warm  glow  of  health  in 
the  clear  skin.  He  had  all  that  beauty  and 
charm  of  appearance  that  introduce  an  orator 
so  favourably  to  his  audience;  before  he  opens 
his  lips  his  battle  is  half  won,  and  if,  when  they 
are  opened,  power  and  intellect  flow  from  them 
in  passionate  melody  of  tone,  such  as  she  knew 
this  man  was  master  of,  he  becomes  irresistible. 
He  looked  to  her,  standing  there,  like  a  king 
whom  Life  had  crowned  with  its  greatest  gifts. 

"Well,  darling,  come  and  kiss  me!"  he  said, 
smiling  into  her  adoring  face.     "With  your 


48      DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

kiss  on  my  lips  I  shall  speak  so  much  better  at 
the  dinner.  I  wish  you  were  coming  with  me !" 

She  rose,  and  with  one  swift  movement  was 
in  his  arms. 

"I  wish  I  were!  But  I  know  how  you  will 
speak!  like  one  inspired,  and  carry  them  all 
away !  Good-bye !" 

"Good-bye,  my  sweet,"  he  said,  his  lips  on 
hers.  "I  shall  be  very  late,  perhaps,  but  I  shall 
find  you  in  my  room  to-night,  sha'n't  I?" 

A  shiver  went  through  the  form  on  his  breast. 
She  raised  her  head  hastily. 

"Oh,  not  to-night,  dearest!  We  must  not 
think  of  it!  Remember  to-morrow  is  every- 
thing to  you!  You  will  be  late  this  evening, 
anyway.  You  will  need  all  the  rest  and  sleep 
you  can  get.  I  want  your  nerves  to  be  as  firm 
and  strong  as  steel  when  you  speak  in  the 
House,  and  your  brain  at  its  best.  I  shall  go 
to  my  own  room.  I  must  for  your  sake." 

He  held  her  away  from  him  and  looked  down 
at  her  half  laughing,  half  sadly. 

"What  a  dear,  wonderful  little  Spartan  you 


THE  PRICE  OF  AN  HOUR      49 

are!     But  I  wonder  sometimes  if  you  do  really 
love  me  and  want  me  as  I  do  you." 

The  girl,  for  she  was  not  much  more  in  age, 
seemed  to  shrink,  and  her  form  to  crumple  up 
with  shock  and  pain,  just  as  if  a  knife  had  been 
thrust  into  her  bosom.  The  words  hurt  so. 
Her  situation,  like  so  many  in  life,  was  so  cruel, 
so  impossible  to  deal  with.  It  seemed  to  grind 
her  to  death  at  times,  as  if  she  were  caught  be- 
tween the  steel  teeth  of  a  trap. 

She  sank  back  into  the  chair,  her  face  white 
with  anguish. 

"I  can't  help  what  you  think,"  she  said  des- 
perately, in  a  low  tone,  knotting  her  hands  to- 
gether in  her  lap.  "I  can't  do  anything  but 
refuse  you.  You  ought  to  know  that  I  love 
you  to  distraction." 

"Darling,  forgive  me,  I  do  know,"  he  said, 
impulsively,  bending  over  her  and  kissing  her 
again. 

"Good  night,  then!" 

The  door  opened. 

"Your  car,  sir,  is  at  the  door." 


50     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

"Very  good,  I'm  coming,"  and  after  strain- 
ing her  to  him  in  a  last  embrace,  he  went  out. 

The  girl  bent  her  head  down  on  the  cush- 
ioned arm  of  the  chair  in  a  passion  of  tears. 

The  scene  just  passed  through  was  one  of  a 
long  series  that  occurred  between  these  two  be- 
ings— the  man,  passionate,  excitable,  impulsive, 
pleasure-loving,  seeking  gratification,  yet  re- 
gretting its  price;  the  woman,  loving,  tender, 
wise,  protective,  maternal,  trying  to  shield  him 
at  all  costs  to  herself,  from  the  passion  that 
seemed  too  like  a  devouring  flame  that  would 
consume  his  life  and  his  powers. 

After  a  time,  her  sobs  ceased.  She  sat  up 
and  gazed  into  the  fire,  silent,  absorbed  in  her 
thoughts. 

She  remembered  the  evening  of  their  engage- 
ment, how  he  had  said  to  her  as  he  kissed  her, 
"I  love  you  so  intensely  I  am  afraid  it  will  pre- 
vent me  doing  anything  else.  I  should  like  my 
wife  to  help  me  if  possible  in  my  career,  help 
me  to  work.  Will  you  promise  to  do  that?" 
And  she  had  promised.  She  remembered  the 
first  year  of  their  marriage,  before  the  birth  and 


THE  PRICE  OF  AN  HOUR      51 

death  of  their  child.  What  a  dream  of  pas- 
sionate delight  it  had  been!  The  house  in  the 
country,  the  wild  hill  walks  together,  the  hours 
in  the  sunny  rose-gardens,  the  moonlight  nights 
of  love,  that  left  them  only  inclined  to  doze  and 
dream  away  the  bright  morning  hours.  Truly 
wonderful  that  time  had  been,  a  circle  of  jew- 
elled days.  At  the  end  she  woke  up  to  see  this 
was  not  keeping  her  promise.  This  was  not 
helping  him  to  work,  to  develop  the  great  tal- 
ents that  she  knew  lay  beneath  his  light,  sunny 
temper  as  the  hidden  diamond  mines  lie  under 
the  bright  landscape.  When  she  realised  all 
this  on  her  awakening,  she  rose  to  act. 

The  country  house  was  given  up,  the  rose 
gardens  where  they  had  known  such  rapture 
were  abandoned.  They  came  to  town;  he  en- 
tered the  lists  for  the  fight;  he  contested  and 
won  his  seat.  He  had  told  her,  the  wish  of  his 
heart  was  this.  But  at  what  a  cost  to  her! 
For  she  had  soon  seen  it  was  more  than  the  life 
of  idle  ease,  more  than  the  country  house  that 
must  be  given  up.  It  was  their  passionate  love 
that  must  be  sacrificed.  The  Moloch  of  mod- 


52     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

ern  worldly  success  demands  from  us  nothing 
but  our  best,  even  as  did  the  Moloch  of  ancient 
days. 

It  was  Manwaring's  love  for  her,  his  passion, 
his  delight  in  her,  that  sapped  his  strength  and 
left  his  brain  empty  of  ideas,  his  mind  tired  and 
listless,  his  body  demanding  rest  not  effort,  and 
when  his  wife  saw  this,  the  image  of  Delilah 
rose  in  her  mind,  with  Samson  bound  and  help- 
less at  her  feet. 

She  explained  all  this  to  him.  She  talked  to 
him,  and  he  knew  it  as  well  as  she  did,  and 
agreed  to  it,  but  what  are  explanations,  and 
what  are  words,  and  what  are  resolves,  even,  in 
the  face  of  desire?  Manwaring  was  like  a 
child,  as  all  men  are,  praying  for  a  thing  one 
moment,  that  he  regretted  accepting  the  next, 
insisting  on  her  love  over-night,  reproaching 
her  for  it  the  following  day.  Hers  was  the 
part  so  often  allotted  to  the  woman,  whether  as 
maiden  or  wife,  to  be  strong  as  iron,  inflexible 
as  ice,  in  the  face  of  his  entreaties,  in  the  face  of 
the  flames  of  her  own  passion  for  him.  To  re- 
sist, to  refuse,  to  deny,  when  she  was  being 


THE  PRICE  OF  AN  HOUR      53 

urged,  implored,  commanded  to  do  what  she 
herself  most  ardently  longed  to  do,  yet  dared 
not  for  his  sake.  Such  was  her  almost  super- 
human task,  but  she  had  done  it.  For  six  years 
now,  she  had  worked  for  him,  with  him,  guarded 
him,  tended  him,  so  ordered  his  life  that  every 
smallest  circumstance  in  it  should  tend  to  his 
health,  his  strength,  his  success.  Herself  was 
nothing  to  her.  She  had  crushed  and  subdued 
and  chained  and  starved  it,  and  suffered  acutely 
always  from  the  bitter  knowledge  that  he  could 
not  fathom  the  depth  of  her  sacrifice,  that,  per- 
haps, as  he  had  hinted  to-night,  he  only  misun- 
derstood! For  no  man  of  his  temperament 
and  physique  exactly  understands  himself. 
Full  of  tremendous  nervous  force  and  energy, 
alive  with  keen  impulses  and  desires,  it  does 
not  occur  to  him  how  he  can  over-draw  upon 
that  splendid  vitality.  He  over-strains,  over- 
works himself  willingly,  as  a  race-horse  will. 
He  is  tired.  What  does  that  matter !  A  stim- 
ulant makes  him  feel  doubly  well,  ready  to 
over-tax  himself  again.  He  does  not  see  the 
spectres  of  collapse,  paralysis,  madness,  that 


54     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

the  far-seeing  eyes  of  the  woman  who  loves  him 
perceive  with  horror. 

Manwaring  was  in  those  dangerous  years 
that  lie  between  forty  and  fifty,  when  the  full 
tide  of  life  seems  to  rise  to  its  highest,  and  yet 
beneath  is  the  creeping  undertow,  drawing  se- 
cretly and  implacably  the  strong  swimmer  to- 
wards the  icy  depth  of  age.  At  that  time  a 
man  has  to  choose  whether  he  will  follow  his 
passions  and  affections  or  the  gods  this  world 
has  set  up. 

Manwaring  would  not  accept  this,  would  not 
acknowledge  it,  but  his  wife  knew  it,  and  the 
iron  cruelty  of  it  went  into  her  soul  and  wrung 
it — just  as  agony  wrung  those  ancient  African 
women's  souls  who  saw  their  first-born  darl- 
ings given  to  Moloch  to  be  thrust  living  into  his 
all-devouring  furnace. 

•          •«•*•• 

As  she  sat  there  in  the  soft,  red  silence  of 
the  fire-lit  room,  the  first  little  tinkle  of  the 
telephone  bell  and  then  the  sharp  whirring  jar 
of  it  came  to  her. 

She  rose  and  walked  over  to  the  other  end  of 


THE  PRICE  OF  AN  HOUR      55 

the  room,  sat  down  at  Manwaring's  desk,  and 
wearily  took  up  the  receiver.  Of  late  the  tele- 
phone had  rung  almost  continuously;  she  ex- 
pected the  usual  query:  "Is  this  Mrs.  Man- 
waring?" 

"Yes?"  she  said,  listlessly.  Then  she  bent 
forward  suddenly,  the  colour  flying  from  her 
cheeks,  her  eyes  dilating. 

"Ivan?  Ivan?  Is  it  you?  I  recognise 
your  voice.  Where  are  you?" 

The  receiver  was  pressed  in  close  now  to  her 
white  ear,  her  gold  hair  fluffed  over  its  edge. 
She  listened  breathlessly  as  a  dear  familiar 
voice  leapt  to  her  over  the  wires. 

"Are  you  alone  in  the  room  ?  Then,  darling, 
I  must  say  it!  I  am  back  from  Russia.  I 
have  a  little  studio  here.  What  are  you  doing 
this  evening?" 

"I  am  alone.  Jack  has  gone  out  to  a  men's 
dinner." 

Her  heart  beat  so  with  surprise,  excitement, 
pleasure,  that  little  pants  got  into  her  voice  and 
travelled  over  to  his  ear. 

"May  I  come  to  see  you  then?" 


56     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

"No,  no,  no,  certainly  not.  Jack  said  he 
would  kill  you  if  you  ever  came  here  again." 

She  heard  the  man's  laugh  at  the  other  end 
of  the  line. 

"I  will  come  all  the  same  if  it's  to  see  you,  if 
you'll  let  me!" 

"I  won't  let  you." 

"Come  to  me  then,  just  for  an  hour.  You 
shall  be  perfectly  safe  and  sacred.  I  will  not 
detain  you  a  minute  more  than  you  wish,  but 
I  am  so  hungry  for  the  sight  of  you.  I  have 
come  all  the  way  back  from  Russia  just  for 
that.  Come,  do  come!  It  can  do  no  harm. 
No  one  need  know !" 

She  trembled  so  the  receiver  almost  fell  from 
her  hand. 

"What  is  your  address?" 

"One  hundred  and  thirteen  West  St.  An- 
drew's Street,  S.W." 

"Give  me  a  minute  or  two.  Wait  for  me. 
You  can  ring  again." 

She  turned  from  the  telephone,  tore  a  scrap 
of  paper  from  the  margin  of  a  journal,  and 
wrote  down  the  address  on  it.  In  the  whirling 


THE  PRICE  OF  AN  HOUR      57 

confusion  of  her  brain  it  might  slip  from  her 
memory.  Then  she  turned  and  walked  over 
to  the  fire,  stinging,  lightning-like  bolts  of 
thought  whizzing  through  her  brain.  Her 
whole  soul  leapt  up  in  joy  at  the  idea  of  seeing 
Ivan  again;  the  beautiful,  reckless,  pleasure- 
loving  Ivan,  the  careless,  light-hearted  Rus- 
sian artist  who  had  come  into  her  life  about  two 
years  ago,  whose  brain  had  flamed  up  with  pas- 
sion for  her,  who  had  offered  her  all  that  she 
desired  so  much  in  life  and  dared  not  accept 
from  her  husband. 

As  a  fire  burning  sways  objects  to  itself  in  its 
hot  draught,  so  his  passion  had  drawn  her  to- 
wards him.  There  had  been  a  few  motor 
drives  together,  a  few  teas,  whitely  innocent, 
but  never  to  be  forgotten  by  either  of  them. 
Then  the  husband's  jealousy  had  intervened. 
Ivan  had  been  forbidden  the  house;  she  had 
been  forbidden  to  see  him ;  he  had  left  for  Rus- 
sia; she  had  dropped  back  into  the  ice-house  of 
her  married  life,  through  the  dim  panes  of 
which  she  could  see  the  fires  of  love  sparkling 
upon  other  hearths. 


58     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

She  did  not  complain.  She  loved  her  hus- 
band with  a  higher,  better,  more  comprehensive 
love  than  she  did  Ivan,  a  maternal,  all-sacrific- 
ing love,  but  she  loved  Ivan,  too,  as  men  love 
the  sunshine,  or  the  keen  air,  or  the  wine  in 
their  glasses,  anything  that  adds  brilliance  and 
colour  and  joy  to  their  lives. 

Should  she  go  now  to  see  him,  just  for  an 
hour?  Bathe  in  the  sunshine?  Feel  the  keen 
air  of  life  on  her  face?  She  paused  irresolute 
on  the  hearth,  every  pulse  clamouring,  the 
blood  racing  and  dancing  in  her  veins.  Just 
to  see  him!  To  see  the  beauty  in  his  face! 
The  wild  passion  in  his  eyes  for  her !  To  feel 
his  kiss ! 

She  had  no  thought  beyond  this ;  no  idea  of 
infidelity  to  her  husband.  To  a  refined  and  ex- 
alted nature  it  is  not  the  actualities  of  love  that 
appeal,  it  is  the  feeling  of  empire  over  another's 
emotions.  Should  she  go?  Her  husband 
would  not  like  it;  it  was  not  right;  it  was  not 
wise,  but  oh,  how  incredibly  she  longed  to  go ! 

For  two  years  now  she  had  been  an  absolute 
slave  to  her  duty.  Might  she  not  take  one  lit- 


THE  PRICE  OF  AN  HOUR      59 

tie  hour  now  for  herself?  an  hour  of  pleasure, 
innocent  though  secret,  harmless  though  for- 
bidden? 

The  telephone  rang  again.  She  flew  to  it 
and  listened. 

"Well  .  .  .  well  .  .  .  yes,  then,  yes.  I  will 
come,  yes. " 

She  hung  up  the  receiver.  As  she  turned 
from  it  the  fire  fell  in  with  a  crash  of  coal,  and 
its  strong  scarlet  light  illuminated  her. 

One  could  easily  realise  how  the  man  might 
hunger  for  the  sight  of  her.  She  was  lovely 
with  the  essential  beauty  of  sex;  one  felt  she 
was  created  for  love  and  passion;  from  the 
warm  gold  of  her  thick  rippling  hair  and  the 
soft  fair  skin  of  her  face  and  her  wide  dark 
eyes,  to  the  long  exquisite  line  of  her  figure,  to 
the  small  and  perfect  foot  beneath  her  rose- 
coloured  skirt.  She  ran  quickly  and  silently 
up  to  her  room,  wrapped  herself  in  a  dark 
cloak,  descended,  let  herself  out,  walked  a  few 
steps,  then  called  a  taxi  and  drove  to  St.  An- 
drew's Street. 

In  the  cab  it  occurred  to  her  suddenly  that 


60     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

she  had  not  brought  the  slip  of  paper  bearing 
his  address  with  her.  She  must  have  left  it  ly- 
ing on  the  desk  by  the  telephone.  No  matter, 
she  knew  the  direction,  and  nobody  probably 
would  even  enter  the  room  before  she  returned. 

It  seemed  a  long  way  up  interminable  flights 
of  stairs  to  his  studio  at  the  top  of  the  house, 
and  when  she  arrived  there  she  was  white  and 
breathless.  Ivan's  door  stood  wide  open.  He 
was  expecting  her.  As  her  light,  hesitating 
step  fell  on  the  landing,  he  came  to  the  en- 
trance. She  was  drawn  over  the  threshold  into 
his  arms. 

"Ivan !  at  last,  after  all  this  time !" 

"Violet!  darling!" 

He  kissed  her.  Ah,  the  wonder  of  some 
kisses!  The  realisation  of  joy  given  and  re- 
ceived! Her  senses  swam  in  dizzy  circles  of 
delight  as  she  saw  the  clear  white  of  his  face 
above  her,  the  blue  eyes  dark  with  passionate 
tenderness,  the  straight  brows,  the  glint  of  the 
lights  on  his  hair. 

He  drew  her  over  to  his  fire,  and  pressed  her 
into  a  chair — a  low,  deep  chair — and  then  knelt 


THE  PRICE  OF  AN  HOUR      61 

by  her,  holding  her  hands  close  in  his,  looking 
into  her  face,  devouring  every  detail  of  it,  every 
ripple  of  her  hair,  with  his  gaze. 

"How  good  of  you  to  come!  The  delight 
that  you  have  given  me!  The  sight  of  you 
is  like  food  and  water  to  a  man  starving  in  the 
wilderness." 

"Even  as  she  was  starving  in  her  wilder- 
ness! How  strange  this  life  can  be!"  she 
thought.  She  slipped  one  hand  from  his  hold 
and  clasped  it  over  his,  her  warm  soft  palm 
upon  his  wrist,  and  so  they  remained  for  some 
moments  absorbed,  enfolded  in  an  indefinable 
delight. 

"Go  and  sit  opposite  me,  Ivan,"  she  said 
softly,  after  a  time.  "I  can  only  stay  a  very 
little  while.  I  want  to  hear  your  news  of  all 
this  time." 

She  glanced  round.  The  room,  though  not 
rich  in  any  way,  suggested  ease,  comfort.  It 
was  well-lighted,  warm.  Everywhere  stood 
his  pictures.  Strong,  powerful  pictures;  they 
confirmed  what  the  room  said  of  him.  Here 
was  an  artist  whose  work  was  good  enough 


62     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

to  provide  him,  from  a  single  sale,  with  ease 
and  comfort  for  a  year.  No  need  for  him  to 
grind  or  plod  or  toil.  Within  his  brain  lay  the 
mint  from  which  in  a  week  of  inspired  labour, 
he  could  coin  the  ruddy  gold.  Her  eyes  came 
back  from  the  room  to  its  owner.  Strong  and 
lithe,  glowing  with  the  vitality  of  his  thirty 
years,  rich  with  that  best  wealth  of  all — youth 
— he  sat  opposite  her  watching  her  with  a  little 
smile.  And  beneath  the  truly  Russian  beauty 
of  his  face  lay  all  that  fine  intelligence,  that 
impetuous  fire,  that  force  of  an  ardent  soul 
that  also  is  truly  Russian,  and  which  makes 
this  nationality  irresistible  in  power  and  charm. 
They  talked  on.  He  told  her  what  she 
asked ;  he  spoke  of  his  art,  his  recent  successes. 
She  spoke  of  her  husband.  His  place  he  had 
won ;  his  triumph.  And  all  the  time  the  waves 
of  her  attraction  flowed  out  to  him  and  over 
him,  calling  him  to  her,  and  he  felt  each  mo- 
ment pass  with  a  stinging  tread  upon  his  flesh ; 
moments  drawing  them  near  to  their  parting. 
Yet  he  stayed  where  he  was,  as  she  had  com- 
manded him.  She  was  his  guest,  and  sacred. 


THE  PRICE  OF  AN  HOUR      63 

And  she  gazed  upon  him,  as  a  prisoner  brought 
to  his  cell  window  might  gaze  on  the  light  of 
Heaven,  and  drew  strength  out  of  his  beauty 
and  the  joy  it  gave  her,  for  the  years  to  come. 

Minutes  flew  on.  The  treacherous  time 
slipped  by.  More  than  the  hour  passed.  She 
rose  to  go.  Ivan  approached  her  for  the  last 
kiss.  His  face  was  deadly  white  and  strained. 
He  hardly  knew  if  the  kiss  would  be  a  pleasure 
or  an  agony  to  him,  but  he  knew  it  would  be 
a  pleasure  to  her.  She  turned  to  him.  .  .  . 
Hark!  what  was  that?  A  firm,  quick  step 
upon  the  stair,  a  step  she  knew,  her  husband's. 
She  left  Ivan  and  advanced  towards  the  door. 
It  was  thrown  open  and  Manwaring  entered. 
In  one  swift  moment  she  knew  that  tragedy 
was  upon  them.  His  face  was  distorted.  She 
could  not  recognise  it.  His  eyes  seemed  set, 
unseeing.  In  his  hand  she  saw  the  gleam  of 
his  revolver.  His  lips  moved  strangely. 

"I  said  I  would  shoot  you  if  I  found  you 
with  this  man  again,"  and  a  blinding,  suffo- 
cating horror  of  regret  and  terror  rushed  over 
her  as  she  heard ;  not  terror  for  herself — of  her- 


64     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

self  she  never  thought — but  terror  for  him.  So 
he  was  to  be  sacrificed!  He  would  shoot  her 
and  then  himself.  His  life  must  pay  forfeit! 
The  dear  life  she  had  worked  for,  watched  over, 
guarded  all  these  years.  And  he  was  at  life's 
topmost  pinnacle  now.  His  success  so  hardly 
won,  his  splendid  powers,  his  life  of  promise, 
were  to  be  flung  away  for  her,  wasted,  lost 
through  her.  She  sprang  to  him,  she  tried  to 
take  his  arm. 

"Wait,  wait,  till  you  have  heard  me.  I  can 
explain  to  you." 

But  the  man  for  the  moment  was  trans- 
formed into  a  maniac.  Before  Ivan  could 
reach  her,  before  she  could  speak  again,  he  had 
fired.  Her  soft  breast  and  throat  were  close 
to  him.  Three  bullets  went  into  them.  She 
sank  to  the  floor  between  the  two  men,  the 
blood  welling  from  her  mouth. 

Instantly  the  flames  of  Manwaring's  anger 
quenched.  His  eyes  cleared.  The  madness 
of  jealousy  fell  away  from  him,  leaving  him 
sane. 


THE  PRICE  OF  AN  HOUR      65 

"God!  what  have  I  done?"  he  exclaimed, 
dropping  on  his  knees  beside  her. 

Ivan  was  supporting  her  head.  Manwaring 
did  not  see  or  heed  him.  His  eyes,  stricken 
with  agony,  were  fixed  on  her  face,  in  which 
the  shadow  of  death  was  gathering.  She 
panted,  struggled  to  speak,  and  did  so  in  spite 
of  the  suffocating  blood  streaming  from  her 
lips. 

"Jack,  you  must  not  die  for  me.  I  cannot 
have  you  throw  away  your  life  for  me.  Prom- 
ise me  you  will  live." 

"No,  no,  no,  not  now,  not  to  survive  you,  my 
darling,  if  I  could."  He  bent  over  her.  She 
felt  his  unavailing  tears  stream  warmly  on  her 
face.  She  clasped  her  hands  desperately  on 
her  bosom  where  the  wound  ate  into  her  life. 
On  the  calm  unruffled  forehead,  on  the  sweep- 
ing brows,  sat  a  great  resolution. 

"My  only  anguish  now,"  she  whispered,  "is 
to  think  I  have  destroyed  your  life.  That  life 
is  mine.  I  worked  for  it,  built  it  up  and  suf- 
fered in  the  building.  It  is  a  sacred  trust. 


66     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

You  must  carry  it  on.  Your  country  wants 
you!  Life  calls  you!  go  to  it.  You  can. 
You  are  guiltless.  Ivan!  I  killed  myself,  do 
you  hear?  He  is  guiltless." 

Ivan  bowed  over  her. 

"Yes,  I  am  witness.     He  is  guiltless." 

The  darkening  eyes  turned  on  her  husband. 

"Let  me  die  content — promise  me?" 

His  face  was  grey  with  horror. 

"I  cannot  live  without  you,  and  I  cannot 
live  a  lie." 

"Dearest  one,  you  will  forget  me  in  time. 
You  have  your  work,  your  duty,  and  there 
shall  be  no  lie." 

She  stretched  out  one  hand  and  clasped  the 
revolver.  Before  either  could  stop  her,  before 
they  realised  her  intent,  she  had  turned  the 
weapon  against  her  wounded  breast  and  emp- 
tied the  two  remaining  shots  into  it* 

Then  she  fell  back  motionless  between  them, 
and  the  two  men  knelt  beside  her,  stricken 
utterly. 


THEIR  HONEYMOON 

SHE  was  exquisitely  pretty.  Her  hair 
was  soft  and  glossy  like  spun  glass  in  the 
sun,  with  a  wonderful  sheen  on  every  golden 
curl  of  it;  wide,  sparkling,  dark  blue  eyes  and 
a  pure  white  skin  went  well  with  her  soft  red 
mouth.  She  was  just  tall  enough  to  be  grace- 
ful, and  her  pale  blue  cloth  dress  and  little  blue 
hat,  with  the  white  rose  tucked  under  the  brim, 
suited  her  to  perfection. 

Merrily  the  trap  spun  along  the  shady  road. 
Harrington  always  drove  well,  and  his  horses 
loved  him;  he  was  as  dark  as  his  bride  of  that 
morning  was  fair,  with  black  hair  that  she 
dearly  loved,  straight,  beautiful  features,  and 
a  gay,  distinguished  air. 

They  were  both  so  happy  on  this  morning  of 
the  Egyptian  spring.  The  sunlight  was  so 
bright  that  dropped  between  the  trees,  the  fields 
of  goodly  standing  crops,  rich  green  and  mus- 
tard yellow  or  claret  pink,  looked  so  brilliant 

67 


68     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

on  either  side  of  the  cool,  shady  road  that  runs 
between  arching  lebbek  trees  from  Cairo  to  the 
Pyramids. 

Never  had  the  lebbeks  seemed  so  stately  and 
their  shade  so  grateful  as  to-day;  never  had 
their  leaves  rustled  and  whispered  together  so 
musically. 

They  were  going  out  to  the  "Orient  Hotel" 
to  lunch,  and  then  as  the  cool  of  the  late  after- 
noon advanced  they  were  going — delight  of 
delights — far  into  the  mysterious  desert  to  have 
the  most  romantic  and  novel  honeymoon  pos- 
sible. It  was  to  be  but  three  days.  That  was 
the  extent  of  his  wedding  leave,  but  they  did 
not  complain.  That  three  days  alone  in  the 
desert  loomed  upon  before  their  vision,  en- 
chanting, all  sufficing.  It  seemed  to  stretch 
into  Eternity  itself.  It  glowed  to  their  eyes 
with  such  a  dazzle  of  joy  it  quite  blocked  the 
view  of  anything  or  any  time  beyond.  Nettie 
was  just  seventeen,  and  sitting  that  morning 
by  Harrington,  driving  out  to  the  Pyramids, 
she  recognised  she  was  a  fortunate  individual, 
and  hugged  her  happiness  and  was  grateful. 


THEIR  HONEYMOON  69 

At  seventeen  usually  the  human  being  has  po- 
tential happiness,  but  not  actual.  That  is  to 
say,  he  has  his  youth,  his  strength,  his  powers, 
his  fresh-hearted  capacity  for  joy.  He  could 
be  happy,  but  he  rarely  is,  for  artificial  cir- 
cumstances and  restraints  block  his  way.  He 
has  the  power  to  enjoy,  but  not  the  opportun- 
ity, and  later  in  life  he  has  the  opportunity, 
but  not  the  power.  Rarely  do  these  two  come 
together.  Therefore,  rarely  is  the  human  be- 
ing happy.  But  for  the  moment  this  girl  held 
both  in  her  soft  and  rosy  hands,  and  she  was 
gloriously  content  as  she  sat  watching  the 
sunny  vistas  on  either  side,  and  feeling  the 
light  air  playing  on  her  face. 

"Of  what  is  my  Nettie  thinking — she  is  so 
silent?"  asked  Harrington. 

"I  am  almost  too  happy  to  talk,"  she  said, 
looking  up  at  him.  "It  seems  like  enchant- 
ment. This  motion  along  this  beautiful  road, 
with  these  fields  on  every  side,  so  sunny,  so 
animated,  so  laughing  with  crops,  as  it  were, 
under  the  endless  blue  skies;  and  to  think  we 
are  moving  towards  the  desert,  the  vast  un- 


70     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

known,  mysterious,  shadowy  desert.  To  think 
we  are  going  into  it  to-night!  Into  its  violet 
darkness,  that  it  will  receive  us,  perhaps  swal- 
low us  up  for  ever!  Perhaps  we  shall  never 
come  out!" 

"Good  heavens,  I  hope  so!"  returned  the 
man,  laughing.  He  threw  back  his  handsome 
head,  and  the  sun  struck  on  his  white  and  even 
teeth.  He  was  full  of  the  joy  of  life,  secure 
in  the  possession  of  happiness  and  love. 

"Of  course,  we  shall,  darling!  Don't  worry 
about  that!" 

"I'm  not  worrying.  I'm  absolutely  happy. 
But  the  desert  is  like  the  future.  One  cannot 
tell  what  it  holds." 

When  they  reached  the  "Orient  Hotel"  the 
day  was  in  its  full  glory.  It  was  one  of  those 
wonderful  Egyptian  days  when  the  sun  is 
ablaze,  but  there  is  no  oppressive  heat,  when 
the  blue  arch  of  the  sky  seems  infinitely  high 
above  the  earth,  and  is  full  of  little  clouds — 
white,  round,  light-filled  clouds — when  a  fresh 
air  stirs,  and  the  atmosphere  is  clear  as  crystal, 


THEIR  HONEYMOON  71 

and  a  thin,  light,  delicate  breeze  comes,  cool, 
not  hot,  from  out  of  the  desert. 

Basil  lifted  her  from  the  trap — glorying  in 
that  moment,  when  her  light  weight  pressed 
his  arms — and  his  fox  terrier  sprang  out  after 
them.  They  were  rather  late,  and  most  of  the 
people  were  already  in  the  luncheon  room. 
Nettie  and  the  dog  went  up  the  steps  on  to 
the  verandah  in  the  shade,  to  wait  while  Basil 
saw  that  the  horse  was  looked  after,  and  went 
to  see  where  their  table  had  been  reserved  for 
them.  The  girl  sat  down  in  one  of  the  many 
lounge  chairs,  and  the  dog  kept  guard  beside 
her.  Her  eyes  looked  out  of  the  shaded  veran- 
dah, where  the  scent  of  flowers  from  the  garden 
at  the  side  rose  sweetly,  far  out  through  the 
dancing  sunlight,  towards  the  desert. 

This  was  very  nice  and  interesting,  being 
all  alone  with  Basil,  really  married  that  morn- 
ing— how  long  ago  the  morning  already 
seemed ! — and  lunching  here  with  him  was  fun ; 
but  the  transcendent  charm  of  all  was  the  com- 
ing night  in  the  desert,  alone  with  those  myriad 


72     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

year  old  sands,  alone  there  in  the  dimness  and 
the  hush  with  him!  She  had  seen  the  Pyra- 
mids and  the  Sphinx,  she  had  climbed  to  the 
highest,  points,  and  snaked  her  body  along  the 
underground  tunnels,  where  one  can  only 
crawl,  and  been  into  all  the  square  dark  cham- 
bers of  those  ancient  tombs;  but  all  this  was 
not  what  caught  her  fancy  most.  These  were 
on  the  edge  of  the  great  unexplored  region. 
She  had  never  been  very  far  into  it.  But  to- 
night they  were  going.  It  was  the  desert  it- 
self, with  its  remoteness,  its  silence,  its  wild 
sunsets  that  colour  its  sands  to  mauve  and 
ruby,  which  attracted  her,  its  solitary  palms, 
its  wandering  winds,  its  lustrous  midnights  of 
blazing  stars. 

Basil  rejoined  her  almost  directly,  and  they 
went  into  luncheon,  Jack,  the  terrier,  being 
left  on  the  verandah,  where,  with  true  canine 
self-abnegation,  he  curled  himself  round  in  a 
chair  on  his  master's  gloves,  and  docilely  went 
off  to  sleep. 

The  restaurant  was  filled  with  gay  lunchers 
and  bright  with  sun  and  flowers.  They  went 


THEIR  HONEYMOON  73 

to  their  table,  which  the  waiter  had  thought- 
fully selected  for  them  in  a  secluded  corner  by 
a  bank  of  greenery  and  bloom,  but  even  here 
they  were  found  out,  and  visited  by  numerous 
friends,  who  came  up  to  joke,  jest,  laugh,  and 
congratulate  them.  Nettie  was  all  smiles,  and 
talked  gaily  with  them,  her  blue  eyes  sparkling 
with  merriment ;  but  in  her  heart  she  was  long- 
ing for  the  peace  and  silence  of  the  desert. 
After  luncheon  she  went  to  pin  her  hat  on  more 
firmly,  and  fix  a  veil,  for  the  camel  ride,  and 
as  she  stood  before  the  looking-glass  in  the 
dressing-room,  studying  her  reflection  with  joy, 
for  she  had  never  looked  more  lovely,  a  woman 
she  knew  in  Cairo  came  up  behind  to  rearrange 
her  hat — and  face. 

"You  know,  my  dear,  I  do  think  you're  mis- 
guided to  go  off  into  the  desert  for  your  honey- 
moon," she  said,  fluffing  a  white  chalky  mix- 
ture all  over  her  nose  and  cheeks.  "Just 
fancy!  No  looking  glasses,  no  bathrooms; 
not  a  soul  to  speak  to;  it  will  be  awful!" 

Nettie  laughed  gaily.  "Mirage  for  looking 
glass,  sun  for  a  bath,  we'll  be  all  right,"  she 


74     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

answered.  "Au  revoir."  She  slipped  out  and 
went  down  the  outer  passage  of  the  hotel,  which 
led  to  the  verandah.  She  heard  the  desert 
sand  blown  with  a  tinkling  sound  against  the 
outside  of  the  wall,  and  forced  through  the 
wooden  shutters  with  a  sizzling  noise.  She 
paused  and  looked  through  one  of  the  slits. 
There  it  lay,  so  bright,  stretches  and  stretches 
of  glittering  sand,  sunny,  inviting  as  her  won- 
derful future. 

She  found  Basil  and  coffee  waiting  for  her 
on  the  verandah;  also  Jack,  who  had  had  his 
luncheon  brought  out  by  an  Arab  waiter. 
Two  fine  riding  camels  were  at  the  foot  of  the 
steps. 

"I  have  had  our  suit-cases  sent  on,"  Basil 
said,  as  she  came  up,  "and  the  man  says  the 
house  is  quite  ready  for  us.  Come  and  have 
some  coffee;  there's  no  need  to  hurry.  It'll 
be  getting  cooler  all  the  time." 

They  took  their  coffee  and  cigarettes,  and 
saw  most  of  the  gay  lunchers  depart  in  various 
directions,  some  to  the  Pyramids,  some  back 
to  Cairo.  Then  just  as  the  sun  was  losing  its 


75 

fierceness,  they  started.  Basil  helped  her  on 
to  the  kneeling  camel,  and  she  begged  for  Jack, 
and  tucked  him  securely  under  one  arm.  Then 
Basil  mounted,  and,  with  a  parting  cheer  from 
their  few  remaining  acquaintances  on  the  ve- 
randah, who  had  gathered  in  a  little  knot  to 
see  them  start,  they  rode  out  into  the  sun  and 
sand. 

"Oh,  Basil,  this  is  perfectly  lovely!  I'm  so 
happy,"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  felt  the  stately, 
slow  swing  of  the  great  beast  under  her  as  the 
two  camels  moved  side  by  side  into  the  desert. 

"So  glad,  darling,"  Basil  answered,  and  he, 
too,  felt  that  extreme  elation  of  the  soul  that, 
alas !  comes  so  rarely  in  sad,  struggling  human 
lives.  Four  and  a  half  years  of  his  life  lay 
behind  him  engulfed  in  the  war,  scarred  all 
over  with  suffering  and  pain.  No  matter! 
There  were  three  bright  days  ahead  of  him 
now,  bright  as  the  sun  that  hung  above  in  the 
radiant  sky.  They  rode  on  easily  with  singing 
hearts,  and,  just  as  evening  approached,  they 
came  into  sight,  over  a  ridge  of  drifted  sand, 
of  a  low,  square,  mud-built  house  by  a  group 


76     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

of  palms.  A  veil  of  rose  and  gold  colour  was 
dropping  over  the  desert,  turning  the  shadows 
in  the  ripples  of  the  sand  to  tender  mauve  and 
washing  the  house  and  palms  in  a  rich  saffron 
glow.  A  small  bodyguard  of  six  white-clothed 
figures  came  out  of  the  house  door  to  meet 
them. 

Ahmed  Ali  Pasha  owned  the  house,  a 
wealthy  Turkish  gentleman,  and  when  Basil 
heard  of  his  darling's  wish  to  spend  their  three 
precious  days  in  the  desert,  he  had  at  once 
thought  of  this  place  as  suitable,  and  had  gone 
to  see  Ahmed  and  put  his  request  to  him. 
Ahmed  knew  and  liked  the  young  English  of- 
ficer, and,  without  conditions,  had  set  the  house 
at  his  disposal  for  his  honeymoon.  He  would 
hear  of  no  pay  and  no  reward.  He  was  not 
using  the  house,  he  said,  and  the  Captain  was 
entirely  welcome  to  it.  More,  he  would  send 
out  there  six  of  his  own  most  trusted  servants, 
and  charge  them  with  making  the  English  com- 
fortable there,  cooking  for  them  and  seeing 
to  all  their  wants.  Basil  had  most  gratefully 
accepted,  and  Nettie  was  wild  with  enthusiasm 


THEIR  HONEYMOON  77 

over  it  all.  Brought  up  as  a  child  to  be  inde- 
pendent, to  do  everything  for  herself  without 
help  from  a  maid,  and  accustomed  to  travel, 
with  all  its  accompanying  discomforts  and 
trials,  which,  to  minds  like  hers,  only  mean 
fun  and  adventure,  she  had  no  misgivings  about 
a  mud  house  and  Turkish  attendants. 

They  dismounted  in  the  golden  glow,  the 
camels  were  led  off  to  a  heap  of  green  alfalfa 
lying  at  the  side  of  the  house,  and  Basil  and 
Nettie  entered  at  the  main  door.  They 
stepped  at  once  into  a  large,  well-proportioned 
room.  The  floor  was  merely  hardened  mud, 
but  perfectly  clean — swept  till  its  surface  was 
smooth  as  marble.  Two  large  square  windows 
without  glass,  but  with  wooden  shutters,  now 
standing  open,  faced  them.  There  were  no 
chairs,  but  several  low  stools  and  a  square 
wooden  table,  low  to  match.  Across  one  end 
of  the  room  swung  scarlet  curtains  from  a 
string  stretched  from  wall  to  wall.  Black, 
arched  rafters  formed  a  lofty  ceiling.  A  vase 
of  beautiful  flowers  stood  on  the  table. 
That  was  all  there  was.  Like  Oriental  rooms 


78      DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

in  general,  its  characteristics  were  cleanliness, 
coolness,  and  space. 

The  head  Turk  showed  them  in  deferentially, 
then  closed  the  door  softly.  Basil  and  Nettie 
were  at  last  by  themselves.  Their  honeymoon 
had  really  begun.  They  just  rushed  into  each 
other's  arms,  and  sank  down  on  one  and  the 
same  low  wooden  stool  at  the  back  of  the  room, 
giving  themselves  up  to  a  summer  storm  of 
kisses. 

Presently  he  took  off  her  hat  and  unwound 
the  pale  blue  scarf  from  her  neck.  They 
parted  the  scarlet  curtains  and  looked  in. 
There  was  a  low  wooden  bedstead,  broad  and 
comfortable-looking,  with  coloured  blankets 
and  white  sheets,  all  exquisitely  clean.  A  lit- 
tle oval  mirror  in  a  gilt  frame  had  been  tacked 
up  to  the  wall.  She  put  her  hat,  veil,  and 
gloves  down  on  the  red  quilt,  and  walked 
through  the  curtains  again,  drawing  them  be- 
hind her.  Jack  was  running  about  their  new 
quarters,  snuffing  for  impossible  rats  in  the 
clean  corners.  The  silent-footed,  white-robed 
attendant  brought  in  tea  for  them  on  a  shining 


THEIR  HONEYMOON  79 

brass  tray,  and  set  it  on  the  table  by  the  open 
windows.  Basil  took  his  seat  on  one  of  the 
stools,  and  proceeded  to  pour  it  out  for  her. 
She  sat  just  opposite  him,  gazing  at  him  with 
delight  in  her  eyes  and  a  proudly  beating  heart. 
Beyond  the  windows  the  light  failed  in  the 
quick  Eastern  way;  the  sky  turned  to  deep 
orange  and  then  rapidly  paled  to  a  clear,  lumin- 
ous green.  The  planet,  Venus,  in  all  her  sil- 
ver glory  broke  out  in  it  and  looked  down  upon 
them.  A  breath  of  delicious  coolness  came  in 
and  touched  their  faces.  Nettie  drank  her  tea, 
then  pushed  away  her  wooden  seat,  and  supped 
on  to  the  floor  by  the  window  at  his  feet,  bend- 
ing her  head  back  against  his  knee,  and  he 
played  with  the  little  golden  tendrils  of  hair 
that  curled  about  her  forehead. 

Suddenly  a  sound  of  whispering  came  to 
them  from  the  outside.  Then  words  in  an  un- 
dertone just  from  the  side  of  the  house.  They 
paid  no  attention  at  first,  lost  in  the  sense  of 
each  other's  propinquity  and  all  the  joyous 
excitement  of  the  moment.  Then  as  a  bullet 
flies  through  space  and  strikes  and  kills,  one 


80      DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

word  came  to  them,  borne  in  on  that  lovely  eve- 
ning air,  from  under  the  tranquil  green  of  the 
sky.  Basil  saw  that  she  had  heard.  He  was 
looking  down  into  her  deep  blue  eyes,  and  he 
saw  them  change  and  dilate  suddenly  with 
horror. 

"These  people  are  speaking  Arabic,"  she 
whispered. 

"Yes;  do  you  understand  it?" 

"Yes."  Then  they  both  listened  intently, 
breathlessly. 

"There'll  be  some  massacres  to-night,"  re- 
marked one  voice,  low  but  jubilant.  "Fine 
doings  in  Cairo,  eh?"  Here  some  listener  was 
evidently  nudged,  and  grunted  appreciatively 
in  return.  "So  few  English  officers  there, 
most  fortunate,  so  many  given  leave — lucky  for 
them,  lucky  for  us !" 

"They  are  travelling  all  along  the  road  from 
here  to  Cairo ;  the  Bedouins  are  a  great  people. 
What  can  the  English  do  against  them  when 
Allah  leads?  The  Bedouins  march  along  all 
roads,"  here  the  speaker  broke  into  a  low, 
chant-like  refrain.  "The  officers  are  on  leave, 


THEIR  HONEYMOON  81 

and  their  ladies  dance.  You  know  the  'Hotel 
Suisse'?" 

An  assenting  grunt. 

"They  fire  it  to-night !  The  ladies  will  burn ! 
Great  is  Allah!"  There  was  silence.  The 
listeners  within  waited  breathlessly.  Informa- 
tion was  so  valuable.  Not  a  sound.  Basil 
rose  silently,  leaned  his  hands  on  the  window- 
sill,  and  looked  out.  There  was  no  one  near. 
He  vaulted  over  the  sill,  and  looked  into  the 
gathering  dusk  on  every  side.  He  went  round 
the  house.  There  was  nothing,  silence,  and 
gathering  shadow,  and  stars  without.  Within, 
lamplight  at  the  back  of  the  house  and  their 
servants  moving  hither  and  thither,  busy  with 
preparing  their  dinner.  The  messengers  of 
evil  omen  had  melted  away  into  the  dark,  ab- 
solutely without  trace.  He  came  back.  The 
girl  was  kneeling  by  the  window  where  he  had 
left  her.  She  rose  and  came  to  him. 

"Those  were  not  our  servants — they  would 
be  talking  Turkish ;  those  were  passing  Arabs !" 
He  nodded,  his  eyes  on  the  floor. 

"Damn  them!     Damn  them!"  he  broke  out 


82      DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

furiously.  "Why  should  they  come  by  our 
window  with  their  gossip?" 

"You  don't  mean  that,  Basil!" 

"I  do.  I  don't  care  for  anything  except  you 
to-night.  I  don't  want  to  think  of  duty  or 
country  or  anything  but  you.  I  want  your 
kisses  and  your  arms  around  me.  I've  slaved 
at  duty  for  four  years.  I've  waited  for  you 
for  two.  I've  looked  forward  to  this  night  for 
months.  I'm  off  duty.  I'm  away.  Damn 
them !  I've  only  three  days.  Why  didn't  they 
keep  away?" 

She  put  her  soft  hand  over  his  mouth.  He 
was  mad  for  the  moment.  Incoherent  and  be- 
side himself.  He  took  her  hand  from  his  lips. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  he  asked,  more  calmly. 
They  looked  at  each  other  for  a  second  in  si- 
lence. They  saw  what  this  meant  for  them. 
Cold  duty  thrusting  itself  between  them  like 
a  great  wedge,  separating  them,  just  when  all 
the  fibres  of  their  two  beings  were  clinging  to- 
gether, when  it  was  acute  pain  to  take  their 
hands  from  each  other's,  when  that  invisible, 


THEIR  HONEYMOON  83 

mysterious  all-powerful  circle  of  electricity  was 
round  them,  so  that  it  needed  real  physical  ef- 
fort to  break  from  contact  with  each  other. 
Wild  thoughts  surged  in  a  mad  rush  through 
his  brain  as  he  searched  her  eyes  in  that  agon- 
ised moment.  He  remembered  he  had  once 
said  that  he  liked  soft,  silly,  pretty  women  who 
were  afraid  of  mice  and  spiders,  were  clinging, 
and  needed  protection.  He  hated  heroics. 
Would  she  cling  to  him  now?  Ask  him  to 
stay,  from  love  or  fear?  Beg  him  not  to  leave 
her?  In  that  tense  moment  of  -lightning 
thought  he  had  the  extraordinary  experience  of 
longing  to  hear  her  appeal  to  him  and  give  him 
the  excuse  to  stay,  yet,  at  the  same  time,  feeling 
an  agonised  fear  of  her  doing  so,  and  so  de- 
stroying for  ever  his  respect  for  her.  Further, 
he  felt  a  terror  that  he  would  not  be  able  to  re- 
fuse if  she  asked,  and  so  would  for  ever  lose  his 
respect  for  himself.  So  in  a  tangle  of  pain  he 
seemed  thirsting  to  hear  the  words  he  hated 
telling  him  to  go,  and  yet  loathing  to  hear  the 
words  he  loved  telling  him  to  stay. 


84      DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

It  was  only  a  fleeting  instant,  for  the  girl 
had  no  hesitation.  To  her  the  way  was  quite 
clear. 

"There  isn't  anything  to  do,"  she  answered, 
"but  to  go  back  at  once.  Warn  them  at  the 
hotel,  get  your  men  together,  telephone  head- 
quarters." 

He  saw  she  was  very  white.  Her  great  eyes 
were  burning. 

"What  about  you?" 

"I'll  do  whatever  you  wish.  If  I  can  be 
the  slightest  use  to  you  I'll  come  with  you.  If 
I  shall  only  be  a  responsibility  and  a  worry 
I'll  stay  here  and  wait — till  you  come  back." 

Do  what  she  would  to  be  calm,  her  lips  quiv- 
ered. He  was  going  out  to  riot  and  disorder. 
He  might  never  come  back. 

Basil  thought  rapidly.  Where  would  she 
be  safest?  With  the  roads  full  of  hostile 
Bedouins,  Cairo  in  revolt,  the  spirit  of  licence 
and  rioting  abroad,  the  road  to  the  town  and 
the  streets,  when  there,  would  be  full  of  dan- 
ger. She  was  better  off  here,  perhaps,  if  she 
could  stand  it,  and  he  would  be  freer,  more  able 


THEIR  HONEYMOON  85 

to  do  and  to  accomplish  without  her.  But  to 
most  women,  a  night  alone  in  the  desert,  with 
only  Turks  to  guard  them,  would  be  insupport- 
able. 

"Are  you  afraid  to  stay  here?" 

"Afraid!"  she  echoed.  "I  am  afraid  of 
nothing.  Only  think  of  what  is  best  for  your- 
self and  for  what  you've  got  to  do." 

"You  feel  you  can  trust  these  Turks?" 

"I'm  sure  of  it.  I  have  lived  in  Turkey, 
I  know  them.  I'd  trust  a  Turk  anywhere. 
Call  them  in  and  explain  it  all." 

"My  own  brave  one!  Oh,  darling,  this  is  all 
so  different  from  what  we  dreamed  of."  He 
stretched  out  his  arms  to  her,  and  she  flew  to 
them,  and  locked  hers  round  his  neck.  They 
kissed  each  other  passionately,  despairingly. 
Ah,  such  different  kisses  from  the  first  gay, 
happy  ones  in  this  room !  These  were  like  the 
kisses  before  death. 

He  released  her  and  called  to  the  servants. 
They  came  at  once — all  of  them — alarmed  at 
his  sharp-edged  tones.  He  was  not  a  great 
master  of  the  language,  but  he  had  studied  it, 


86      DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

and  deep  emotion  spurred  on  his  brain  and 
found  him  the  words.  He  told  them  what  he 
had  heard,  said  he  had  to  return  to  his  duty, 
and  that  he  was  going  to  leave  his  wife — a 
sacred  charge — in  their  hands,  and  would  they 
accept  it?  Their  dark  faces  grew  very  grave, 
but  the  Oriental  is  brave  and  can  look  death 
in  the  face  as  well  as  any  man.  With  one  ac- 
cord, without  hesitation,  they  took  the  oath  to 
protect  her,  even  at  the  cost  of  their  own  lives. 
She  said  a  few  words  in  Turkish  to  them,  and 
they  brightened  and  smiled. 

"Get  the  camel  ready,  I'm  going  at  once," 
he  told  them,  as  they  salaamed  again  and  with- 
drew. 

Then  he  turned  to  the  girl  and  took  her  once 
more  into  his  arms.  The  dog,  thoroughly  un- 
easy with  all  the  new  sorrow  in  the  air,  whined 
at  their  feet. 

"Take  this,"  Basil  said,  putting  a  little 
revolver  into  her  hands.  "  It  may  be  use- 
ful." 

"Keep  it  for  yourself." 


THEIR  HONEYMOON  87 

"I  have  my  own,  a  big  one;  this  is  small,  but 
good.  You  know  how  to  use  it?"  Nettie 
nodded. 

"I'll  keep  Jack;  he'll  be  safer  here." 

"Darling,  you  are  a  brick." 

"Well,  I  ought  to  be — soldier's  daughter  and 
soldier's  wife.  Good-bye,  dearest,  I  shall  pray 
for  you  till  you  return,  and  wait  here  till  you 
come,  mind,  no  matter  how  long." 

An  exclamation  from  outside  startled  them. 
They  ran  out  together.  The  servants  in  a 
white-clothed  group,  stood  round  the  alfalfa 
heap.  The  camels  were  gone! 

Wildly  they  hunted  round  the  house.  It 
seemed  impossible,  but  there  was  the  fact. 
Without  sound  or  trace,  they  had  been  spir- 
ited away.  Silence  and  darkness,  but  for  the 
flashing  splendour  of  the  stars,  reigned  now  in 
the  desert. 

Basil  was  greatly  disturbed.  The  long,  hot, 
dangerous  walk  on  foot  moved  him  less  than 
the  question — had  the  servants  been  in  collu- 
sion with  the  thieves?  And  if  so,  how  could 


he  trust  her  to  them?  But  Nettie  seemed  to 
read  his  thoughts.  "I'm  sure  the  Turks  are  all 
right,"  she  said.  "Perhaps  those  Arabs  whom 
we  heard  talking  took  the  camels." 

He  was  relieved  by  her  confidence.  She 
steadied  and  calmed  him,  made  his  duty  as 
easy  as  she  could.  There  was  nothing  for  it 
but  to  walk ;  there  was  no  riding  animal  nearer 
than  the  "Orient  Hotel."  There  he  could  pick 
up  his  trap,  if,  indeed,  the  hotel  itself  was  not 
in  the  hands  of  howling  Arabs.  He  set  out 
with  clenched  teeth  and  a  seething  rage  of  an- 
ger in  his  heart.  He  looked  back  from  a  few 
paces,  and  the  last  he  saw  of  her  was  her 
sweet  figure  in  the  doorway  with  the  lamp,  now 
lighted  by  the  servants,  shining  behind  her, 
his  dog  clasped  in  her  arms,  and  a  smile  on  her 
little  red  mouth. 

Basil  walked  away  to  his  duty  like  an  Eng- 
lishman, and  like  an  Englishman,  swearing. 

He  had  only  asked  three  days  of  Fate,  and 
it  begrudged  him  that. 

The  girl  turned  back  into  the  empty  room, 
and  now  there  was  no  more  need  to  check  them, 


THEIR  HONEYMOON  89 

let  the  tears  surge  up  to  her  eyes  and  over  the 
lid.  She  hated  his  going,  hated  being  left. 
She  wanted  him  so  much.  With  the  dog  still 
clasped  in  her  arms,  she  fell  on  her  knees  by 
the  window  and  prayed.  Her  prayers  were  all 
for  him.  That  he  should  be  guarded,  that  he 
should  reach  Cairo  in  safety,  that  he  might 
come  back  in  safety.  Of  herself  she  never 
thought,  for  herself  she  did  not  pray. 

Silent,  sympathetic,  and  respectful,  the  serv- 
ants brought  in  her  dinner,  and  she,  seeing 
how  carefully  they  had  prepared  it,  took  a  little 
of  it  all.  The  rest  she  told  them  to  keep  for 
him.  "He  may  be  back  any  time,"  she  said, 
"and  he  may  be  hungry."  She  fed  Jack,  and 
got  out  a  wrap  from  her  suit  case  to  make  a 
bed  for  him.  When  the  servants  had  cleared 
away,  and  the  lamp  and  flowers  stood  alone 
on  the  table,  one  of  the  men  paused  by  the 
door. 

"Two  of  us  will  be  on  guard  all  night  while 
the  others  sleep.  We  will  take  it  in  turns. 
We  trust  the  lady  will  sleep." 

"Thank  you,  all  of  you.     I  know  you  will 


90 

guard  the  house  well.     For  myself,  I  shall 
spend  the  night  in  prayer." 

The  Turk  salaamed  and  withdrew. 

Two  hours  passed  and  all  was  quite  silent. 
The  girl  sat  back,  wearied  with  anxious  thought 
and  prayer,  but  no  feeling  nor  idea  of  sleep 
came  near  her.  She  felt  the  sense  of  approach- 
ing ill,  and  sat  wide-eyed  to  meet  it.  As  she 
sat  there  alone,  oppressed  with  vague  forebod- 
ing and  cold  in  the  desert  night,  she  thought 
with  pleasure  of  the  women  dancing  at  the 
"Suisse,"  of  the  warning  that  would  be  given 
in  time,  of  the  riot  that  would  be  checked,  and 
the  lives  saved  just  because  she  had  heard  and 
understood  that  whispered  conversation.  She 
had  no  feeling  of  regret  that  she  had  heard. 
In  spite  of  her  anxiety  for  her  lover,  she  was 
still  great  enough  to  be  glad,  and  she  believed 
he  was,  too,  in  spite  of  his  frenzied  words  to 
the  contrary.  Suppose  they  had  not  heard, 
and  then  learned  afterwards  that  their  hours  of 
passionate  joy  had  been  bought  at  the  price 
of  others'  lives,  and  enjoyed  while  they  were 
crying  vainly  for  help  in  the  flames !  What  a 


THEIR  HONEYMOON  91 

legacy  of  pain  and  regret  always  bound  up 
with  memories  of  their  honeymoon ! 

Suddenly,  without  the  least  warning,  a  rifle 
shot  that  rang  out  through  the  stillness.  She 
sprang  up,  darted  to  the  windows,  and  drew 
the  shutters  to,  bolting  them  firmly.  At  the 
same  moment  the  door  was  opened  and  the 
Turkish  servants  crowded  into  the  room. 
They  dragged  in  with  them  the  sentry,  whose 
arm  hung  useless  beside  him.  Then  they  shut 
the  door  and  shot  the  heavy  wooden  bolts. 
Jack  stood  by  the  girl,  growling  and  quivering. 

"There's  a  band  of  Bedouin  rioters  coming 
up  from  the  desert,  madam,"  said  one  of  the 
Turks,  breathlessly,  turning  to  her.  "One  of 
them  shot  the  sentry,  but  perhaps  they're  not 
all  armed.  Buldo,  draw  up  the  table  across 
the  corner  and  put  a  seat  for  the  lady  behind 
it.  Hang  the  lamp  on  the  wall !  That's  right ! 
Now  the  bed,  and  pile  up  the  stools  on  the 
table."  The  man  addressed  as  Buldo  pushed 
up  the  table  with  a  will,  the  others  collected 
rapidly  the  wooden  seats  and  piled  them  on 
it.  Nettie  took  a  cord  from  her  suit  case  and 


92      DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

fastened  Jack  up  securely  in  the  corner,  taking 
her  place  in  front  of  him  and  behind  the  table. 
The  head  man  and  one  of  the  others  dashed 
aside  the  curtains,  and  dragged  forward  the 
bed,  stripping  it  of  rugs  and  cushions,  and 
heaping  these  on  the  table  and  all  round  the 
girl.  Delay  was  their  one  idea.  To  protect 
her  from  stab  and  shot  from  moment  to  mo- 
ment, since  at  any  second  help  might  come. 
The  Captain  was  gone  to  the  city.  He  would 
bring  or  send  assistance  soon,  they  felt  sure. 

One  of  the  men  stood  by  the  door  on  the 
watch  with  his  eye  to  the  crack. 

The  wounded  sentry  sat  on  the  floor  with  his 
back  against  the  wall,  while  a  companion  ban- 
daged his  arm. 

Nettie  spoke  to  him  cheeringly,  and  he 
looked  up,  smiling,  and  thanked  her.  She  felt 
quite  calm  and  no  fear,  only  tension,  great 
tension,  and  desire  to  do  whatever  was  best  in 
each  moment  as  it  came  along. 

"Here  they  are!"  called  the  man  on  watch. 
"I  see  nine  of  them." 

Immediately  a  yell  and  a  burst  of  execra- 


THEIR  HONEYMOON  93 

tions  went  up  outside  the  house.  There  was 
another  shot,  and  a  bullet  went  whistling 
through  the  door  and  straight  through  the 
room.  No  one  was  hit.  Nettie  was  safe  in 
her  corner,  and  the  men  ducked  their  heads 
as  the  missile  went  by.  The  next  moment 
crashing  blows  of  axe  and  hatchet  fell  on  the 
stout  door.  The  wood  split  and  broke.  More 
blows,  the  door  crashed  in,  and  the  horde  of 
Bedouins  poured  into  the  room.  The  Turks 
drew  their  knives,  and  fell  back  in  a  close  line 
before  the  table,  guarding  the  corner.  Nettie, 
with  her  hand  in  the  bosom  of  her  dress  on  the 
revolver,  stood  watching  her  opportunity. 
She  had  but  five  shots.  Each  must  tell.  Only 
one  of  the  Arabs  had  a  rifle  and  apparently  no 
more  ammunition,  for  he  did  not  fire  again. 
The  Turks  fought  magnificently  with  the  fero- 
city and  the  deadly  earnest  of  all  brave  things 
at  bay.  They  were  ready  to  die  in  her  de- 
fence. Their  sacred  charge  could  not  be 
reached  except  over  their  lifeless  forms. 

The  Bedouins,  their  eyes  lighted  up  with  the 
lust  of  battle,  their  dusky  faces  aflame,  pushed 


94      DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

forward  in  a  solid  block  with  bared  knives, 
but  four  shots  in  succession  came  out  of  the 
corner,  and  each  time  a  man  fell,  and  a  howl 
went  up  from  the  Arabs.  They  tried  to  rush 
the  corner,  but  the  numbers  were  now  even — 
five  to  five — and  they  could  not  pass  that  bar- 
rier of  Turkish  courage  and  Turkish  steel. 
Desperately,  in  hand  to  hand  struggles,  both 
sides  fought.  The  Turks  had  had  many 
wounds  before  her  shots  had  evened  the  num- 
bers. They  went  down  one  after  another,  but 
in  their  grip  dragging  their  opponent  with 
them.  With  agonised  eyes,  Nettie  saw  them 
sink  to  the  floor.  There  was  little  noise  in  the 
room,  only  deep,  quick  breathing,  scrape  of  the 
struggling  feet,  very  rarely  a  gasp  or  a  groan. 
Now  only  one  standing  figure  remained,  the 
leader  of  the  Arabs,  an  immensely  tall  and 
powerful  man.  He  came  close  up  to  the  table, 
leaned  on  the  barricade,  looked  hard  into  the 
fair  face  of  the  girl,  and  slowly  sheathed  his 
knife.  Nettie  saw  the  deliberate  action,  also 
the  look  in  his  eyes — eyes  fixed  on  her,  welling 
over  with  desire.  The  next  instant  he  bent 


THEIR  HONEYMOON  95 

slightly  to  grip  and  wrench  away  the  fence  her 
friends  had  made.  Nettie  held  her  little 
weapon  steadily  in  her  slim  white  fingers,  and 
as  he  bent  his  head  she  fired  straight  into  the 
forehead.  He  fell  with  a  great  crash  to  the 
floor,  dragging  part  of  the  defences  with  him. 
Nettie  climbed  on  the  barricade,  and  then 
jumped  from  it  to  the  ground.  Through  the 
smashed  door  she  saw  the  whiteness  of  the 
dawn,  and  across  the  threshold  lay  one  of  the 
Arabs.  He  had  tried  to  crawl  out,  and  died 
there  in  the  attempt.  She  stepped  over  him, 
and  ran  to  the  little  lean-to  kitchen  built  at  the 
side  of  the  house.  There  was  water  there  in 
great  earthenware  cooling  jars  against  the  wall. 
She  filled  a  pitcher  with  it,  took  up  a  cup  and 
came  back.  The  room,  with  its  floor  covered 
with  the  huddled  forms,  some  moving  and 
groaning,  others  rigidly  still,  with  pale,  up- 
turned faces,  looked  terrible  as  she  entered  it. 
The  grey  light  of  morning,  hardly  stronger 
than  the  failing  lamplight,  showed  dimly,  dark 
and  moving  stains  on  the  ground.  A  feeble 
murmur  of  "Moiya,  moiya,"  came  from  the 


96      DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 


Arabs  as  they  saw  her  pitcher.  Jack  was 
whining  in  his  corner  and  straining  at  his  cord. 
Nettie's  lips  were  white,  but  resolutely  folded. 
She  stepped  carefully  and  delicately  amongst 
the  fallen  men,  and  gave  each  one  that  was  con- 
scious, water,  putting  her  arm  under  his  head 
as  she  held  the  cup  to  his  lips.  Her  pitcher 
was  nearly  empty,  and  she  stooped  over  one  of 
the  Arabs  lying  near  the  door  to  give  him  the 
last  cupful.  His  eyes  were  closed  and  he  made 
no  movement,  only  repeated  the  word  "Moiya" 
in  a  craving  whisper.  She  bent  near  with  her 
cup,  and  like  a  flash  his  right  arm  shot  out  of 
its  great  falling  sleeve.  With  his  last  strength 
he  drove  his  knife  into  her  shoulder.  He  had 
aimed  at  her  heart,  but  his  muscles  failed,  and 
the  point  went  sideways.  The  blow  given,  he 
rolled  over  with  a  guttural  laugh,  and  grew 
still. 

A  stab  with  a  sharp  knife  gives  little  pain 
at  the  moment.  Nettie  started  up  conscious 
only  of  a  feeling  of  deep  burning  in  the  flesh. 
She  thrust  her  handkerchief  beneath  her  bodice, 
hard  against  the  wound.  She  was  rather 


THEIR  HONEYMOON  97 

proud  of  it.  In  a  way  she  was  glad.  She  had 
hated  to  see  her  guard  cut  down  while  she  was 
safe,  hated  to  see  them  suffer  while  she  was 
unhurt.  She  felt  a  slow  trickle  on  her  arm, 
in  spite  of  the  handkerchief,  but  it  did  not 
alarm  her.  She  picked  up  the  overturned  cup 
and  pitcher,  and  went  again  to  the  kitchen. 
Coming  back  with  the  water,  her  head  swam 
suddenly,  her  knees  trembled,  and  she  sank 
down  by  the  wall.  She  would  have  stayed 
there,  she  felt  so  strangely  tired,  but  she  heard 
Jack  whining  piteously  within,  and  after  a  few 
seconds  nerved  herself  to  go  on.  She  crossed 
the  threshold,  stepping  over  its  silent  guardian, 
and  entered  the  dim  room.  She  found  her  way 
to  the  dog,  and  gave  him  some  water.  He 
drank  it  thirstily,  and  licked  her  hand  in  grati- 
tude. She  slid  down  beside  him.  She  wanted 
to  go  to  the  Turks  and  see  if  she  could  bind  up 
their  wounds,  but  she  could  not  move.  She 
looked  at  their  vague  and  shadowy  forms  lying 
round  her.  All  seemed  growing  far  off  and 
dim.  The  groaning  and  the  sighing  had  al- 
most ceased.  Her  eyes  closed,  and  she  seemed 


98     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

unable  to  open  them  again.     The  lamp  went 
out,  and  there  was  silence. 

«•••••• 

A  little  later  the  sun  broke  fully  over  the 
desert,  and  the  great  shafts  of  light  struck 
Ahmed's  house  by  the  palms.  At  the  same 
moment  a  little  knot  of  horsemen  galloped 
over  the  sand  drift  and  came  up  to  the  wide- 
standing  door. 

Harrington  entered  first.  "Nettie,"  he 
called,  and  then  again  in  agony,  "Nettie! 
Nettie!"  but  only  the  clamour  of  the  dog  an- 
swered him. 


TRIUMPH 

THE  sun  was  sinking  behind  the  far  blue 
hills  and  the  whole  sky  was  glowing  with 
a  radiant  flush  of  rose.  The  earth,  too,  seemed 
dipped  in  the  warm  reflection;  everything  took 
on  the  same  hue  of  lustrous  pink  as  if  all  were 
dyed  in  some  magic,  sparkling,  rosy  wine. 
Trees  and  rolling  hills,  meadows  and  little 
brooks,  brown  cattle  and  white  cottages,  all 
gained  added  beauty  from  the  soft  enchanting 
light.  And  on  one  thing  above  all  others  it 
seemed  to  fall  with  a  divine  touch,  the  up- 
turned face  of  a  girl,  as  she  stood  by  the  stile 
on  the  slope  of  the  hill  by  her  cottage.  A  man 
stood  beside  her,  looking  down  on  her,  and  it 
seemed  to  him  that  his  eyes  had  never  rested  on 
anything  so  lovely  as  her  face.  Her  hair  and 
eyebrows  were  dark,  her  eyes  dark  and  beauti- 
ful, but  the  transcendent  charm  of  her  face  lay 
in  the  glory  of  the  skin.  White  and  trans- 
parent as  the  finest  porcelain,  with  a  lovely 
glow  of  colour  in  the  cheek,  one  could  have  held 

99 


100     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

a  wild-rose  against  it,  and  its  fairness  could 
not  have  suffered  in  the  comparison.  Nature, 
the  divine  artist,  had  here  accomplished  a  mas- 
terpiece, and  at  this  moment  the  setting  sun 
was  throwing  on  it  the  light  of  heaven. 

"Rosa,  darling  Rosa,"  the  man  murmured, 
as  his  fascinated  eyes  wandered  over  her  face. 
"Why  do  you  look  so  wonderful  this  very  night 
we've  got  to  part?  I've  never  seen  you  so 
lovely." 

"It's  the  sunset,  Jim,  that's  all:  one  always 
looks  nice  in  the  pink  light." 

"I  love  you,  I  do  love  you,  oh,  how  I  love 
you!"  he  murmured,  tightening  his  arms 
round  her  waist  and  gazing  with  devouring 
eyes  into  her  face,  where  the  colour  grew  a 
little  deeper  under  the  pure,  pearly,  trans- 
parent skin.  To  see  her  blush  was  like  looking 
at  a  red  light  through  an  alabaster  screen. 
The  man  did  not  know  why  he  loved  her;  he 
only  knew  that  the  pleasure  he  drank  in 
through  his  eyes,  fixed  on  her,  was  so  great, 
that  he  didn't  even  want  to  bend  down  to  kiss 
her  and  so  break  the  spell  of  sight. 


TRIUMPH  101 

"I  can't  go.     I  can't  go  and  leave  you." 

She  heard  real  agony  in  his  voice ;  his  brows 
were  drawn  together,  as  in  deep  pain. 

"Oh,  but  you  must,  dearest.  We've  no  right 
to  think  of  ourselves  now.  You  must  go,  and 
I  will  wait  for  you,  and  I  won't  be  idle  either, 
I  will  do  something  to  help." 

The  man  held  her  in  silence.  His  clutch 
on  her  waist  had  less  of  the  touch  of  an  embrace 
than  the  grip  of  the  drowning  man  on  the  life- 
belt. He  felt  in  that  moment,  gazing  on  her 
sunlit  face,  that  she  was  his  life,  his  all.  Parted 
from  her,  it  seemed,  a  cold  sea  of  despair,  an 
ocean  of  unknown  desolation  would  close  over 
his  head. 

With  a  sudden  movement  he  dragged  her 
towards  him,  hard  against  his  breast.  A  suf- 
focating sob  broke  from  him,  and  he  buried  his 
face  in  the  silky  wealth  of  her  hair. 

"Oh,  Rosa,  I  can't  leave  you." 

She  put  up  both  arms  round  his  neck,  and 
her  soft  bright  lips  to  his  ear. 

"Jim!  my  own  darling  brave  heroic  Jim! 
Of  course  you  must  go!  England  is  waiting 


102    DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

for  you!  Think,  Jim,  what  am  I  beside  Her? 
She  is  looking  for  you,  calling  you.  She  is  in 
danger.  You  can't  fail  her." 

"There  are  heaps  of  others." 

The  words  were  just  muttered.  She  hardly 
caught  them.  His  lips  were  buried  in  her  hair. 

"And  they  are  going,"  she  whispered  back, 
"all  of  them  are  going,  all  the  men  who  count, 
You  wouldn't  stay,  you  wouldn't  be  one  of  the 
no-accounts." 

"Suppose  I  come  back  .  .  .  blind"  his 
hoarse  whisper  was  one  of  shaken  horror. 

"No  matter.  It  will  be  for  England.  And 
I  will  wait  on  you  hand  and  foot,  and  read  to 
you  and  kiss  you  and  sing  to  you." 

"But  not  to  see  you  .  .  .  ever  again,"  he 
pushed  her  out  from  him  and  so  held  her  while 
his  eyes  travelled  over  her  face,  searchingly, 
hungrily.  He  wanted  to  stamp  on  his  mind 
so  as  to  carry  with  him  everywhere,  through 
shot  and  shell  and  down  into  the  darkness  of 
blindness  or  death,  that  sweet  and  lovely  image. 

She  smiled  back  at  him.  "Darling,  good- 
bye," she  whispered,  "we  shall  meet  again.  If 


TRIUMPH  103 

not  here,  in  Heaven.  Nothing  will  matter  so 
long  as  we  have  each  done  all  we  could." 

The  rosy  glow  was  fading.  The  sun  was 
withdrawing  his  light  and  glory  from  the  earth. 
The  swiftly  approaching  violet  shadows  of  the 
evening  enfolded  the  lovers,  and  in  them  she 
heard  his  passionate  good-bye,  with  his  hot 
tears  falling  on  her  face. 

It  was  the  eve  of  both  their  birthdays,  Sep- 
tember 1st,  1914.  He  was  twenty,  and  she  was 
nineteen. 

When  the  shadows  had  grown  still  deeper 
and  had  hidden  finally  from  her  long  gaze, 
Jim's  retreating  figure  going  down  away 
through  the  slender,  feathery  larch  trees  to  the 
town,  she  went  slowly  back  to  the  cottage,  small 
and  white,  that  nestled  in  the  curve  of  the  hill. 
Her  eyes  were  clear ;  the  great  pain  in  her  heart 
seemed  so  deep,  so  far  down,  it  was  below  the 
level  of  any  tears. 

When  she  reached  her  home  it  was  all  astir, 
for  her  father  also  was  "joining  up,"  and  some 
friends  had  come  in  to  wish  him  luck.  He  was 
head  gardener  at  a  neighbouring  big  house,  a 


104     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

tall,  strong,  kindly  man,  who  never  held  his 
grizzled  head  higher  than  when  someone  said 
he  was  old  enough  to  let  the  young  men  go,  and 
stay  behind.  He  could  "get  out  of  it."  "I 
don't  want  to  get  out  of  it,"  he  had  said  simply, 
fixing  the  speaker  with  his  brave,  kind  eye.  "I 
want  to  fight." 

That  was  the  simple  reason,  the  great  grand 
reason  why  England  won.  Her  men,  the  most 
of  them,  the  best  of  them,  wanted  to  fight. 
And  as  long  as  the  world  lasts,  whatever  pacts 
are  made,  and  whatever  phrases  are  coined, 
every  game  animal  and  every  man  and  woman 
worthy  of  the  name,  will,  when  attacked,  want 
to  fight. 

So  the  gardener  Bell,  of  forty,  joined  up, 
and  Jim  Brown  of  twenty,  and  Rosa  Bell  was 
left  in  the  cottage  to  take  care  of  it  and  her 
younger  sister  Ella.  There  were  no  tears. 
Rosa's  eyes  were  proud  and  glad.  Her  brain 
was  only  filled  with  one  question — What  can 
I  do?  Her  whole  heart  panted  with  longing 
for  work  and  self-sacrifice. 


TRIUMPH  105 

It  was  blazing,  three  o'clock  of  an  August 
afternoon,  and  the  white  road  through  the  val- 
ley gave  back  to  the  eye  a  pitiless  and  stony 
glare.  The  hedges  on  either  side  were  coated 
with  a  peculiar  yellowish  dust;  a  heavy  suffo- 
cating scent  of  sulphur  hung  in  the  stifling  air 
which  seemed  throbbing  and  pulsating  with  the 
ring  of  hammer  on  steel,  and  the  confused 
sounds  of  many  workers  working,  which  came 
from  the  huge  munition  works,  the  great  camp 
in  the  valley  well  away  from  the  town.  Two 
tall  chimneys  gave  out  thick  columns  of  brown- 
ish smoke,  which  seemed  to  hesitate  a  moment 
before  loosening  their  tight  convolutions,  and 
then  to  roll  slowly  onwards,  spreading  in  a 
sullen,  ponderous  way  all  over  the  valley  to  its 
furthermost  rim  of  hills. 

A  girl  walked  along  this  burning  road  with 
a  slow  and  weary  step,  and  as  she  came  near  a 
gate  in  the  hedgerow,  she  turned  aside  to  it, 
and  when  she  reached  it  leaned  hard  on  it  and 
seemed  to  draw  her  breath  with  difficulty.  Be- 
fore her  stretched  a  meadow,  yellow  in  the  sun- 


106    DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

shine,  flecked  with  huge  shadows  as  the  trail- 
ing clouds  of  smoke  passed  over  it,  and  through 
it  wound  a  little  green  path,  leading  on  through 
many  a  fence  and  stile  up  to  the  cool  green 
slopes  of  the  hills  where  the  woods  grew  thick, 
and  over  them  towered,  rich  in  velvet  turf  and 
crowned  by  sweeping  beech  trees,  the  ancient 
camp  that  once  had  dominated  the  valley. 

The  girl's  hot  tired  eyes  looked  longingly 
up  the  path.  How  she  longed  for  the  shade 
of  the  beeches !  for  the  cool  air  that  played  with 
the  dancing  leaves  on  the  summit  of  the  camp ! 
How  strange  to  think  that  four  years  had  gone 
by  since  she  and  Jim  had  walked  up  that  path 
together  one  sunny  afternoon,  when  the  air 
had  been  clear  as  crystal,  and  only  the  birds' 
sweet  notes  had  broken  the  golden  silence,  when 
there  had  been  no  munition  camp  in  the  valley, 
no  smoke  overhead,  no  thought  of  war  in  their 
minds.  Four  aching  years,  how  they  had 
limped  away  and  were  gone  now  for  ever,  lost 
in  a  great  gulf  of  pain.  Her  father  had  been 
taken.  He  would  never  come  back  to  the  cot- 
tage ;  and  Jim,  would  he  ever  come  back?  She 


TRIUMPH  107 

had  never  seen  him  since  he  left.  He  had  been 
in  Mesopotamia,  he  had  been  wounded,  very 
ill.  That  was  all  she  knew.  His  letters  were 
few,  with  long  intervals  between  them.  Some- 
times two  or  three  came  altogether.  Some- 
times not  a  line  reached  her  for  months.  Yet 
her  hope  and  her  sense  of  duty  never  failed  her. 
She  had  written  to  him  regularly  every  week. 
All  the  rest  of  the  time  she  had  worked.  She 
knew  it  was  not  her  part  to  idly  think  of  him, 
nor  to  spend  her  time  in  weeping  for  him. 
She  knew  she  must  work.  And  she  had  saved. 
She  put  everything  away  that  she  earned. 
She  was  saving  for  him.  He  might  come  back 
disabled,  infirm,  crippled,  blinded.  She  must 
have  money  to  provide  for  him  if  he  needed. 
Food,  wine,  medicine,  care,  what  might  he  not 
need?  and  what  would  be  her  intense  joy  to  be 
able  to  give  him  not  only  the  care  of  her  hands, 
the  devotion  of  her  soul,  but  also  luxuries, 
things  that  money  could  buy — the  money  she 
had  earned? 

Wherever  the  economy  touched  herself,  she 
pinched  and  screwed.     It  was  only  Ella  that 


108     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

never  suffered.  She  herself  grew  thinner,  but 
Ella  matured  and  bloomed  into  greater  beauty 
every  day.  She  had  clothes  and  shoes  and  hats 
as  she  wanted  them,  but  Rosa  for  herself  could 
hardly  bear  to  spend  a  penny  of  her  precious 
hoard.  The  over-alls  she  was  wearing  were 
of  the  roughest,  cheapest  kind;  her  shoes  were 
old  and  patched ;  her  hat  three  years  old.  She 
did  not  care  so  long  as  the  hoard  grew  and  grew 
for  him.  When  the  call  for  the  extra  muni- 
tions came,  when  the  nation  awoke  suddenly  to 
the  bitter  need  of  her  soldiers  in  the  field,  it 
was  Rosa  who  begged  to  be  given  more  and 
more  work,  and  if  the  deadlier  things  to  make 
were  the  more  highly  paid,  she  pleaded  to  be 
chosen  for  them.  However  painful,  however 
dangerous,  she  could  face  them,  as  she  would 
have  faced  death  by  snake-bite  or  any  other 
poison — for  him. 

But  now,  as  she  leaned  on  the  rail,  she  re- 
alised how  great  had  been  the  price  she  had  paid 
to  win  that  little  hoard.  Her  strength  was 
gone.  She  felt  frightened.  Suppose  after  all 
when  he  returned,  ill  or  helpless,  she  was  not  fit, 


TRIUMPH  109 

not  able  to  nurse  him,  wait  upon  him?  She 
must  pull  up  a  little.  She  must  take  a  little 
more  care.  That  was  why  she  was  leaving  the 
camp  so  early  this  afternoon.  She  was  going 
home  to  rest.  She  had  fainted  that  morning 
at  her  work.  So  silly  of  her !  She  hated  her- 
self. Why,  the  war  might'  go  on  for  ages  yet, 
and  she  must  go  on  working  to  the  very  end 
just  as  Jim  himself  was  doing.  Her  hero! 
She  must  be  worthy  of  him.  She  must  be 
more  careful.  She  would  go  home  and  rest 
now,  and  after  a  long  sleep  she  would 
be  fit  again.  She  turned  from  the  gate  and 
resumed  her  way,  trying  to  press  her  steps, 
but  her  chest  was  strangely  tight,  she  could 
hardly  breathe.  She  walked  more  slowly, 
thinking.  She  had  tried  to  be  careful,  but 
somehow  she  was  afraid  the  poisonous  fumes 
had  got  round  the  edge  of  the  mask,  or  perhaps 
through  the  gloves  into  the  pores  of  the  skin. 
She  looked  at  her  hand  in  the  sunlight.  It  was 
strangely  yellow,  and  it  had  always  been  so 
white. 

After  a  long,  hot  walk  through  the  town,  for 


110    DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

her  home  lay  on  the  opposite  side  of  it,  she 
entered  her  cottage  on  the  hill  with  tired  feet. 
She  almost  stumbled  on  the  threshold. 

A  young  girl  sprang  up  to  greet  her.  "Oh, 
Rosa,  how  ill  you  look!"  she  exclaimed. 
"Come  and  sit  down  while  I  make  you  some 
tea.  The  kettle  is  just  on  the  boil." 

She  led  her  sister  to  the  old  armchair  by  the 
window,  where  geraniums  and  muslin  curtains 
fought  with  the  sunlight,  and  put  a  pillow  be- 
hind the  bent  and  stooping  shoulders,  cramped 
by  unaccustomed  hours  of  toil.  Then  she  bent 
over  her  with  a  lively  smile.  She  was  truly 
lovely,  this  girl,  now  nineteen;  with  all  the 
wonder  of  colour  in  her  flower-like  face  that 
Rosa  had  had,  but  joined  with  a  regularity  of 
feature,  a  perfection  of  contour  that  the  elder 
girl  had  never  possessed. 

"I  have  a  secret!  Guess  what  it  is!"  she 
called  in  her  clear  merry  voice,  both  hands  now 
behind  her  back. 

Rosa  lifted  her  face,  the  insidious  poisons 
had  sucked  out  the  rose  colour  from  cheek  and 
lip ;  it  was  dully,  horribly  yellow,  stamped,  al- 


TRIUMPH  111 

though  quite  young,  with  the  ghastly  colour  of 
extreme  old  age.  She  made  an  effort  to  smile. 
"Tell  me,"  she  whispered  hoarsely. 

"It's  Jim!"  cried  the  younger  sister  joyfully, 
"he's  coming  home.  I  have  his  telegram  here, 
he's  in  London.  What'll  you  give  for  it?"  and 
she  danced  away  and  round  the  room  holding 
up  the  telegram,  her  eyes  full  of  mischief.  She 
was  so  well  and  full  of  life.  She  had  been  so 
well  looked  after,  so  well  nourished,  so  shel- 
tered from  overwork  and  care. 

"I'll  give  you  a  kiss,"  answered  Rosa, 
stretching  out  her  hand.  "Oh,  let  me  have  it  I 
What  does  he  say?  " 

"A  kiss !"  laughed  the  other.  "Who'd  want 
a  kiss  from  you,  you  dear  old  yellow- face! 
Why,  you  look  poisonous!  Never  mind,  you 
shall  have  your  telegram!  He's  your  man! 
but  I'm  jolly  glad  he's  come  back,  for  now 
you'll  leave  off  that  beastly  munition  work!" 

She  flicked  the  telegram  orer  to  her  sister 
and  turned  her  attention  to  the  kettle  which 
was  boiling  over  on  the  little  stove.  She  did 
not  mean  to  be  unkind,  she  was  only  thought- 


112    DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

less,  and  spoke  lightly  without  weighing  words 
— just  what  came  into  her  giddy  little  head. 

Rosa  caught  the  telegram  in  her  trembling 
hands.  She  hardly  heard  her  sister's  remarks. 
Jim  in  England,  London,  coming  home !  The 
whole  world  seemed  standing  still  as  she  read 
the  wire.  The  amazing  joy  of  it !  The  words 
danced  before  her  eyes.  "Back  safe  and 
sound.  Coming  to  you  to-morrow.  Jim." 
She  lay  back  in  the  chair  panting.  He  was 
safe  and  well,  and  coming  to  her.  The  glori- 
ous luck  of  it  all.  How  thankful  she  ought  to 
be!  How  grateful!  And  it  was  just  in  time. 
She  could  not  have  held  out  much  longer. 
Now  she  could  rest  a  little.  How  pleased  he 
would  be  when  she  told  him  all  she  had  done. 
She  would  take  him  to  the  post  office  and  draw 
out  all  that  little  hoard  and  press  it  into  his  own 
dear  hands.  Had  he  come  back  ill  it  would 
have  been  a  necessity  to  him,  since  he  was  well 
it  would  be  a  joy.  He  should  have  it  all. 

"Here's  your  tea!  Do  take  a  drink  and 
buck  up  a  little!  You  look  so  bad." 

She  opened  her  eyes  which  had  closed  of 


TRIUMPH  113 

themselves  as  they  so  often  did  now  without 
will  of  her  own,  and  saw  her  sister  standing, 
holding  out  a  cup  of  tea.  She  took  it  and 
drank  it  eagerly. 

"Thanks,  I  feel  a  lot  better  now.  It's  done 
me  good.  Oh,  Ella,  isn't  it  lovely  to  think 
we'll  have  him  back  after  all  he's  gone  through. 
We  must  straighten  up  the  cottage,  and  we'll 
give  him  father's  room.  I  expect  he  can  stay 
a  few  days  anyway.  Oh,  isn't  it  just 
Heaven?" 

She  was  speaking  eagerly,  excitedly,  now. 
A  flush  burnt  in  her  cheeks.  Her  soft  dark 
eyes  were  full  of  fire. 

"I  expect  you'll  be  marrying  soon,"  Ella 
said  slowly,  "and  then  I'll  have  to  get  out." 

"What  an  idea!  Of  course  you  won't. 
You'll  stay  with  us  just  as  long  as  ever  you 
like,  but  you'll  be  marrying  yourself,  Ella, 
pretty  soon.  You  are  just  lovely — like  a  pic- 
ture." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  queried  Ella  a  little 
doubtfully,  going  to  the  mirror  on  the  wall,  a 
small,  square  mirror  with  green  tissue-paper 


114     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

twisted  ornamentally  round  its  narrow  frame. 
It  was  not  too  small  to  give  back  perfectly  the 
soft  glowing  image  of  her  face,  crowned  with 
the  silky  darkness  of  her  hair.  She  peered  into 
it  and  noted  the  transparent  depth  of  pearly 
whiteness  in  the  smooth  cheek  with  its  wonder- 
ful wavering  flush  of  delicate  rose. 

"My  skin  is  just  like  yours  was,  isn't  it?" 
she  said  contentedly,  after  a  minute's  survey. 
"I  always  thought  you  pretty  before  you  went 
in  for  munish.  I  think  it  was  a  mistake  you 
did  that,"  she  added,  judicially. 

"I  ...  I  thought  it  was  right,"  faltered  the 
elder  girl,  a  little  chill  creeping  over  her,  a 
little  breath  of  some  vague  and  distant  fear. 
"  Father  had  gone  .  .  .  given  his  life  .  .  .  Jim 
was  there  ...  so  bad.  They  wanted  the 
things  so  much  .  .  .  Jim  told  me  we  couldn't 
win,  unless  they  had  more.  .  .  .  Someone  had 
to  make  them." 

"Plenty  of  others  to  do  it  ...  ugly  girls," 
returned  Ella  briefly. 

"I  didn't  want  you  to  have  to  work  hard, 


TRIUMPH  115 

you  were  younger,  and  you  see  Jim  might  have 
come  back  ill  or  blind  or  ...  or  ...  without 
limbs  at  all,"  she  added  in  a  lower  tone. 

"Good  gracious,  yes!  but  you'd  never  have 
wanted  to  marry  him  then!" 

"Ella!  of  course  I  would!  I'd  have  loved 
him  more  than  ever,  and  you  see  all  the  money 
they  gave  me  would  have  come  in  then  so  well 
for  him." 

"Well  I  know  I  wouldn't  marry  a  helpless 
lump.  He'd  have  to  go  to  a  hospital  or  some- 
thing." 

"Oh,  don't!  you  hurt  me!"  and  she  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands.  "My  Jim  in  a  hos- 
pital!" 

"Well,  there,  it's  all  right.  No  need  to 
bother  about  it  now.  Come  and  help  me  make 
things  look  a  bit  tidier." 

For  the  rest  of  the  day  both  girls  were  busy. 
There  were  so  many  delightful  things  to  do, 
the  dusting  of  shelves,  the  polishing  of  hard- 
ware, the  making  of  the  most  comfortable  bed 
in  the  world,  the  gathering  of  bunches  of  flow- 


116     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

ers  for  every  table,  the  hanging  of  clean  white 
curtains  in  Jim's  room,  the  exact  arrangement 
of  the  best  pillow  in  the  best  frilled  pillow- 
case on  which  the  hero  would  rest  his  handsome 
head! 

Extremely  tired  but  supremely  happy,  Rosa 
went  to  bed  that  night.  The  last  thing,  she 
looked  into  Jim's  room.  It  was  very  neat, 
very  clean,  and  full  of  the  scent  of  flowers. 
A  delightful  smile  played  on  her  face.  Pass- 
ing the  toilet  glass  she  caught  her  own  reflec- 
tion. A  little  pang  went  through  her.  It  was 
very  yellow.  She  looked  closer.  The  deadly 
stain  had  spread  down  the  round  neck,  up  to 
the  roots  of  her  hair,  and  the  hair  itself  had  a 
reddish,  rusty  look,  different  from  the  silky 
blackness  of  four  years  back.  Her  eyes  took 
on  a  frightened  questioning.  Then  she  smiled. 

"How  silly  I  am!  Of  course  Jim  will  love 
me  all  the  better  when  he  knows  it  was  the 
work  that  did  it,"  and  she  went  away  to  happy 
dreams  of  the  morrow. 

The  following  day  was  suffocatingly  hot, 
and  the  girls,  in  a  state  of  nervous  tension, 


TRIUMPH  117 

awaited  the  great  event,  finding  still  more  work 
to  do,  and  running  to  window  or  door  every 
two  or  three  minutes  to  look  down  the  sunny 
garden  and  hillside  to  the  road. 

Rosa  had  been  out  many  times  with  the  sun 
hot  on  her  bare  head,  and  after  all  it  was  Ella, 
who,  late  in  the  afternoon,  strolling  down  the 
garden  path,  first  caught  sight  of  Jim.  Rosa, 
after  a  long  watch  at  the  gate  had  returned, 
and  was  sitting  in  the  arm-chair  when  she  first 
heard  the  beloved  voice  she  had  thirsted  to  hear 
for  so  many  weary  months. 

"Rosa!  darling!  at  last!  How  lovely  you 
are!"  The  clear  ringing  tones  came  to  her 
"lovelier  than  ever,"  and  then  her  sister's  voice 
with  a  little  giggle  in  it. 

"Shut  up,  you  old  donkey!  I'm  not  Rosa. 
Don't  you  remember  me?  You  used  to  call 
me  the  kid.  Rosa's  inside." 

They  were  now  on  the  threshold.  Rosa  had 
sprung  to  her  feet.  She  rushed  forward,  and 
her  arms  were  about  his  neck. 

"Oh,  Jim!  darling,  darling  Jim!" 

The  young  man  was  laughing  over  his  mis- 


118     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

take.  He  held  her  close  and  kissed  her  two  or 
three  times.  Then  he  held  her  out  at  arm's 
length  from  him  just  as  he  used  to  do  in  old 
times  when  he  wanted  to  feast  his  eyes  on  her. 

She  looked  back  at  him,  adoringly.  Oh,  how 
handsome  he  was !  so  brown !  but  such  a  lovely, 
clear,  bright  tan,  and  he  had  grown  so  broad ! 

"I  say,  Rosa,  old  girl,  what's  come  to  you?" 
he  asked  in  tones  of  concern.  She  saw  his  ex- 
pression had  changed.  That  little  chill  came 
again  to  her  heart. 

"Why,  Jim,  it's  all  the  munish,"  broke  in 
her  lively  sister,  "Rosa's  worked  like  a  slave 
all  the  time  you've  been  gone.  She's  been  as 
good  as  gold  and  now  she's  the  colour  of  it!" 
and  she  giggled  as  she  did  at  everything. 
Why  not?  To  temperaments  like  hers  all  life 
is  one  great  joke. 

"My  poor  old  dear,"  ejaculated  the  man, 
drawing  her  close  into  his  arms  again.  "Poor 
dear  old  girl,"  he  repeated,  kissing  her  hair. 
It  was  loving,  he  was  kind,  but  in  Rosa's  breast 
sounded  a  death  knell.  To  her  woman's  ear, 
so  sensitive,  so  acute,  so  attuned  to  catch  the 


TRIUMPH  119 

tones  of  love,  the  difference  between  his  voice 
now  and  the  triumphant  rapture  of  his  first  ex- 
clamation, was  quite  clear. 

"Lovelier  than  ever!"  Oh,  how  it  rang  in 
her  brain,  and  that  was  not  for  her  now.  It 
was  for  another,  for  the  sister  whose  health 
and  beauty  she  had  fostered  while  she  had  given 
herself  to  the  deadly  sulphurous  fumes. 

She  clung  to  him  trembling,  her  face  hidden 
on  his  breast,  and  he  stood  patting  her  shoul- 
ders gently  and  kindly,  and  looking  across  to 
where  the  soft  lustre  of  Ella's  face  glowed  in 
the  hot  summer  light. 

"What  made  you  work  so  hard,  my  dear?" 
he  asked. 

"I  ...  I  wanted  the  money  for  you.  .  .  . 
I've  been  saving  for  you,"  she  murmured. 

Then  she  raised  her  head  suddenly  and  saw 
his  eyes  fixed  on  the  girl  by  the  window,  and 
her  whole  heart  and  body  grew  cold  as  ice. 
She  withdrew  herself  from  his  arms  and  sat 
down  in  the  arm-chair  to  support  her  trembling 
frame. 

"Ella,  dear,  leave  Jim  and  me  a  little  while. 


120     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

We've  so  much  to  say  to  each  other,"  she  said. 

"I  want  to  hear  Jim's  news  too,"  Ella  re- 
marked, reluctantly  going  to  the  door. 

"You  shall,  later,  he'll  tell  us  that  at  supper. 
I  only  want  to  tell  him  more  about  myself. 
You  know  all  that." 

"Right  oh!  I'll  be  in  the  garden  if  you 
want  me." 

She  flashed  a  brilliant  smile  at  the  young 
man  and  strolled  out.  Rosa  turned  to  him. 
She  felt  very  weak  and  nervous,  and  a  little 
confused  by  Jim's  slight  air  of  dissatisfaction. 
But  she  must  tell  him  all  that  her  heart  had 
been  bursting  with  for  so  long;  and  all  about 
the  little  hoard  at  the  post  office.  She  had  so 
looked  forward  to  this  moment,  but  now,  some- 
how, it  was  not  what  she  had  thought  it  would 
be.  She  talked  to  him,  with  his  dear  hand  in 
hers.  She  told  him  all  that  it  had  been  so  im- 
possible to  express  in  her  letters ;  she  told  him 
how  she  had  thought  of  him,  worshipped  him, 
loved  him,  prayed  for  him,  worked  for  him, 
saved  for  him.  And  he  listened  gravely  with 
his  eyes  bent  upon  the  floor.  She  remembered 


TRIUMPH  121 

how  formerly  they  had  never  left  her  face  while 
she  talked  to  him.  He  was  kind,  he  seemed 
grateful,  but  she  felt  there  was  no  response. 
She  was  a  creature  pleading  for  her  life,  and 
she  knew  it.  She  talked  on,  and  her  voice  was 
very  sweet,  so  full  of  the  accent  of  love,  but 
she  felt  like  a  musician  tapping  a  board  instead 
of  the  speaking  notes  of  an  instrument. 
Something  had  come  up  between  them,  a  wall, 
a  partition  she  could  not  penetrate.  All  fire, 
all  fervour,  rapture  and  enthusiasm  seemed  to 
have  gone  out  of  him  in  that  first  exclamation. 
She  could  not  win  it  back.  At  last  she  came 
to  the  disclosure  of  the  amount  of  her  little 
savings.  It  seemed  very  big  to  her.  She  had 
a  note  of  triumph  in  her  voice  as  she  told  him. 
He  did  not  seem  surprised,  nor  even  very 
pleased.  She  put  before  him  all  her  motives; 
all  her  fears;  her  great  love  spoke  in  every 
word.  Then  she  waited  for  some  response. 

"It's  awfully  good  of  you,  old  girl,  but  you 
needn't  have  bothered,  the  Government's 
bound  to  look  after  me,  and  I'm  sorry  you've 
messed  up  your  face  so,"  that  was  all  he  said. 


122     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

"Is  it  so  very  bad?"  she  said  falteringly,  put- 
ting up  her  hand  to  her  thin  cheek. 

"Well,  it  is  rather  rotten,"  he  replied,  look- 
ing at  her  closely  and  then  away  again.  "See 
how  different  your  sister's  is!  You  were  the 
image  of  her  when  I  left  you,"  and  he  sighed. 

Rosa  was  silent.  The  great,  the  awful,  the 
crushing  knowledge  of  having  made  a  mistake 
in  a  vital  matter,  filtered,  with  its  deadly  hope- 
lessness, slowly,  into  her  brain.  She  had  done 
wrong ;  she  had  failed. 

There  was  a  long,  long  silence  between  them. 

She  sat  half  dazed,  with  a  feeling  of  misery 
she  could  hardly  explain.  After  a  time  he  got 
up  and  stretched  himself. 

"I'd  like  a  turn  in  the  garden,"  he  said  con- 
strainedly. "You  sit  here  and  rest  a  little." 

Rosa  nodded  with  a  faint  smile,  and  watched 
him  go  out.  Ella  was  in  the  garden.  There 
are  many  cups  of  bitterness  in  life,  and  this 
girl,  without  philsophy,  without  education, 
knew  that  one  was  being  held  out  to  her  now, 
and  that  she  must  drink  it. 

She  sat  perfectly  motionless,  her  elbow  on 


TRIUMPH  123 

the  chair  arm,  her  chin  resting  in  her  hand, 
her  gaze  fixed  on  the  floor. 

She  was  not  only  tender  and  loving,  she 
was  brave.  She  had  the  soul  of  a  lioness,  and 
she  looked  straight  into  the  face  of  this  great 
ruin  she  had  brought  into  her  life.  She  did 
not  attempt  to  palliate  it  to  herself.  She  had 
lost;  lost  everything;  lost  her  health,  lost  her 
beauty,  lost  Jim.  None  of  the  things  she  had 
so  dreaded  had  happened,  he  had  not  been 
killed,  crippled,  blinded.  He  had  come  back 
safe  and  well  as  she  had  so  ceaselessly  prayed, 
but  she  had  lost  him.  It  was  so  extraordinary 
she  could  hardly  grasp  it.  Had  he  only  loved 
her  then  for  the  fugitive  blush  of  her  cheek? 
It  looked  like  it.  And  he  ?  Had  he  come  back 
most  horribly  disfigured  she  would  only  have 
loved  him  more.  How  she  would  have  taken 
him  into  her  arms  and  loved  and  honoured  and 
treasured  him  the  more  for  every  scar,  every 
hideous  wound,  sign  of  his  courage  and  sacri- 
fice. Ah,  well,  men  were  different.  It  was 
her  fault.  She  should  have  known.  She  saw 
now  that  to  be  idle  and  selfish  and  worthless, 


124     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

with  a  pink  cheek  and  a  bright  lip,  was  better 
in  a  man's  eyes  than  to  be  hard-working  and 
self-sacrificing,  if  it  meant  a  stain  on  the  coun- 
tenance !  There  were  steps  outside,  they  were 
passing  the  window.  She  sprang  up  and  stood 
where  she  was  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and 
looked  out.  Yes,  there  they  were  together. 
How  pleased  he  looked,  how  handsome,  flushed, 
and  animated;  and  her  sister,  how  sweet  her 
up-turned  face  as  she  walked  beside  him,  hang- 
ing on  his  words.  He  was  telling  his  adven- 
tures— "And  then  they  put  us  on  rafts  .  .  ." 
she  heard,  the  words  floated  in  as  they  passed 
the  window. 

Rosa  sat  down  again,  and  it  seemed  to  her 
that  iron  hooks  were  being  driven  into  her 
breast  and  sinking  heavily  through  bone  and 
flesh,  down  to  her  inmost  soul. 

Presently  they  came  back  laughing  and  talk- 
ing, and  it  was  time  to  get  the  evening  meal. 
With  a  good  deal  of  chaff  and  giggling  and 
clatter  of  plates,  the  supper  was  laid,  and  the 
bread,  the  cheese,  the  ham,  the  precious  bottles 
of  beer,  were  all  put  out,  the  cold  pie,  the  cakes ; 


TRIUMPH  125 

and  they  all  sat  down.  Jim,  between  the  two 
girls,  who  both  waited  on  him. 

He  told  them  fine  stories  of  the  crossing  of 
rivers,  the  holding  of  bridges,  the  firing  of  the 
last  shot,  the  failing  ammunition;  of  the  heat, 
of  the  flies,  of  the  lack  of  water;  and  Rosa 
listened  to  it  all  in  a  dream.  His  voice  was 
music  to  her,  but  now  it  seemed  throbbing 
through  empty  chambers  where  her  heart  had 
been. 

The  meal  passed  over  at  last,  and  Jim,  filling 
his  pipe  from  the  new  little  box  Rosa  had 
bought  and  put  ready  for  him  with  loving  care, 
suggested  they  should  all  go  out  for  a  walk. 

"It'll  be  a  jolly  evening,  and  I'd  like  a  turn 
through  those  old  woods  at  the  back  where  we 
used  to  go."  He  looked  at  Rosa  as  he  spoke, 
and  she  might  have  been  wrong,  but  she  fancied 
from  his  eyes  he  did  not  want  her  much  to 
come. 

"I  don't  think  I  feel  quite  up  to  it,"  she  said, 
a  nervous  shrinking  filling  her,  and  she  saw  at 
once  a  bright  look  of  relief  light  up  his  eyes. 

"You  poor  old  dear,  go  up  and  get  to  bed 


126     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

and  to  sleep  and  get  rested.  The  kid  and  I'll 
take  just  a  turn  round.  We  won't  be  late." 
He  came  over  to  her  and  kissed  her.  Then  in 
a  mist,  she  saw  her  sister  put  on  her  hat,  and 
they  went  out.  There  were  the  things  stand- 
ing on  the  table  to  be  washed  up.  She  did 
it  mechanically,  not  realising  what  she  did. 
When  all  were  done  and  put  away,  she  went 
up  to  the  room  the  sisters  shared,  and  fell  upon 
the  bed.  She  could  not  think.  She  was  done. 

A  long  time,  it  seemed,  must  have  passed 
when  she  opened  her  eyes  again.  She  did  not 
know  whether  it  was  sleep  or  unconsciousness 
into  which  she  had  fallen.  Night  had  come, 
and  the  moon  was  up,  its  light  fell  faintly  into 
the  room;  a  little  air  was  blowing  across  it 
from  the  open  casement.  She  wondered  what 
had  waked  her.  She  put  out  her  hand  to  her 
sister's  place.  It  was  empty.  Then  she  heard 
voices.  Jim  was  speaking.  He  must  be 
standing  below  in  the  garden. 

"It's  no  use,  dear,  I  simply  can't  stand  old 
yellowface,  and  as  for  marrying  her,  I  couldn't 
do  it.  Now  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do. 


TRIUMPH  127 

We'll  hook  it  quietly,  you  and  I,  and  just 
leave  her  here  so  there'll  be  no  fuss  or 
bother.  She'll  be  all  right;  she's  got  the  cot- 
tage and  a  bit  saved  up,  what  she'd  done  for  me. 
Now  you  be  a  good  kid  and  do  as  I  say.  ..." 
The  voice  trailed  off,  the  speaker  had  passed 
on,  and  the  light  air  changed  its  course,  and 
there  was  silence. 

Rosa  sat  up  in  the  moonlight.  A  great  pain 
was  at  her  heart,  tearing  it  to  pieces.  So  that 
was  her  Jim !  her  hero !  And  she  would  have 
staked  her  life  on  his  being  true  and  great  and 
fine.  That  agony  of  disillusionment,  is  there 
anything  like  it?  It  seemed  to  Rosa  what  she 
had  suffered  before  at  losing  his  love  was  noth- 
ing to  what  she  suffered  now  in  losing  her  faith. 
The  awful  pain  was  not  in  giving  up  her  idol, 
but  in  seeing  it  shattered.  So  he  did  not  love 
her,  had  never  loved  her,  never  cared  for  her, 
only  for  the  colour  in  her  cheek !  Then  a  great 
fact  leapt  up  before  her  like  a  light  in  darkness. 
If  that  were  so,  was  his  love  worth  anything? 
Did  it  matter  whether  one  won  it  or  lost  it,  pos- 
sessed it  or  not?  No.  Then  another  thought 


128    DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

caught  fire  like  a  torch  in  the  blackness  of  her 
misery.  It  was  not  this  that  she  had  worked 
and  suffered  for,  not  this  light  and  worthless 
love.  No,  after  all,  it  was  for  England,  for  her 
country,  for  all  those  fighting,  of  which  Jim  was 
but  one.  Whatever  might  have  happened  now, 
she  did  not  regret  what  she  had  done.  What 
was  this  fleeting  thing,  men's  love?  If  she 
could  have  bought  it  again,  had  her  beauty  re- 
stored, and  her  labours  blotted  out,  would  she 
have  done  it?  No,  not  now  that  she  knew 
what  that  love  was  worth.  A  great  agony 
came  over  her,  out  of  her  heart,  and  cramping 
all  her  limbs,  and  suddenly  she  realised  that  all 
things  of  earth  were  passing  away  for  her. 
She  did  not  exclaim,  she  did  not  call.  Just 
staggering  to  her  feet,  she  got  a  pencil  and  a 
slip  of  paper,  wrote  a  couple  of  words,  and  then 
climbed  back  on  to  the  bed,  and  stretched  her- 
self there. 

The  soul  is  a  lonely  thing.  It  lives  alone. 
And  in  the  last  hour  of  life  none  can  even  ap- 
proach near  to  it.  Its  own  past  actions  rise 
then  and  stand  round  it  on  every  side,  guarding 


TRIUMPH  129 

its  threshold.  Rosa  knew  if  the  arms  of  her 
lover  were  round  her,  if  her  sister  held  her 
hand,  her  soul  would  still,  preparing  for  its 
homeward  flight,  be  utterly  alone.  She  was 
not  afraid.  She  needed  no  one.  Even  the 
pain  seemed  passing  away.  The  walls  of  her 
narrow  room  seemed  to  fall  and  dissolve  into 
lighted  spaces,  she  heard  the  heavenly  choir 
singing,  and  freed  from  all  desire  of  this  world, 
her  bright  and  stainless  spirit  took  its  upward 
flight. 

Entering  on  tip-toe  a  little  later,  Ella  stum- 
bled at  the  bedside  and  put  her  hand,  in  the 
dark,  on  her  sister's  face. 

She  shrieked. 

"Jim!     Come  here." 

Jim  hurried  up  from  the  lower  room. 
"What's  wrong?"  he  exclaimed,  putting  the 
match  he  held  to  the  candle  on  the  dressing- 
table.  As  the  light  flared  up,  he  saw  Ella 
standing  over  the  form  on  the  bed. 

"She's  dead!  oh,  Jim!" 

The  man  approached  and  gazed  into  the 


130     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

face.  It  was  stone  white  now,  the  hated  yel- 
low tint  hardly  showed.  The  sweet  and  gentle 
lips  were  set  almost  in  a  smile.  He  nodded. 
He  knew  well  the  face  of  death. 

"What's  this?"  he  muttered,  drawing  a  slip 
of  paper  out  from  under  her  hand.  He  spread 
it  flat,  only  two  words  were  traced  on  it. 

He  read  them  out  slowly. 

"I  forgive." 


LILY  had  been  brought  up  in  an  old 
cathedral  town,  and  some  of  its  quiet 
tranquillity  seemed  to  have  got  into  her  blood, 
some  of  its  stately  dignity  into  her  character. 
Her  parents  were  dead,  and  she  had  lived  un- 
der the  care  of  an  old  unmarried  aunt  who 
owned  "The  Grange,"  a  roomy  secluded  house 
surrounded  by  wildly  lovely  gardens,  and  shel- 
tered by  masses  of  walnut  and  lime  trees. 
In  these  gardens,  among  lilies  that  were  no 
fairer  than  herself,  Lily  grew  to  the  age  of 
seventeen.  On  her  seventeenth  birthday  she 
was  tall,  slight  without  being  thin,  and  ex- 
actly, in  appearance,  like  her  name.  She  had 
an  exquisite  carriage,  full  of  grace  and  dignity, 
and  moved  as  lightly  as  a  lily  sways  in  the 
wind.  Her  head  was  small  and  bore  a  crown 
of  sunlit  waving  hair,  her  skin  was  warmly 
white  as  a  lily  seen  in  the  noon-day,  and  her 

131 


132    DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

eyes  a  beautiful  lustrous  blue.  But  above  all 
the  charm  of  her  face  or  form  was  the  magic 
of  her  voice ;  that  wonderful  voice  that  thrilled 
and  drew  the  heart  towards  her.  Such  a  sym- 
pathy dwelt  in  it,  such  a  comprehensiveness  as 
it  seemed  of  all  things ;  of  the  woe  and  suffering 
in  the  world,  of  the  joys  and  the  passions,  the 
loves  and  griefs  and  tumult  of  the  soul.  It 
had  every  subtle  inflexion  in  all  its  clear,  pure 
tones.  It  was  a  perfect  instrument  of  sound, 
rich  and  soft,  disclosing  and  revealing  the  ten- 
der loving  temperament  that  lay  behind  it. 
That  voice  was  irresistible,  animals  were 
swayed  by  it  instantly,  the  restive  horse,  the 
growling  dog,  the  wildly  frightened  cat,  all 
grew  calm,  the  moment  those  sweet  notes  of 
Lily's  voice  fell  upon  their  ears.  The  divine 
compassion  of  it,  unlike  most  of  the  sounds  of 
earth,  changed  their  rage  or  fear  into  a  startled 
wonder  of  silent  listening. 

In  the  dark  and  quiet  house,  of  which  she 
was  the  acting  mistress,  for  her  aunt  was  old 
and  inactive,  she  moved  like  a  radiant  being, 
uncomplaining,  happy,  as  the  ray  of  sunshine 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        133 

dances  in  the  old  lumber  room.  The  servants 
were  old  and  deaf,  her  aunt  lived  a  life  aloof 
and  distant  from  her,  and  Lily  lived  in  a  world 
of  her  own.  Splendidly  educated  by  the  best 
and  highest  teachers  in  literature  and  lan- 
guages, in  music  and  painting,  and  with  a  mind 
that  absorbed  easily  every  form  of  knowledge, 
wide  fields  of  thought  stood  open  to  her,  and 
over  these  her  spirit  took  flight  like  a  falcon. 
Overseeing  domestic  duties  in  the  morning, 
driving  to  the  shops  in  the  afternoon  with  her 
aunt,  sitting  tranquilly  in  the  long  chair  be- 
neath the  walnut  in  the  evening,  Lily's  soul 
was  wandering  afar,  through  the  Damascus 
Gate  at  Jerusalem,  perhaps,  or  amongst  the 
palms  of  some  desert  oasis,  or  with  (Enone  on 
Mount  Ida,  or  "going  up"  with  Xenophon,  or 
accompanying  Creusa  in  her  flight  from  burn- 
ing Troy. 

She  lived  in  a  world  of  thought,  of  knowl- 
edge amongst  great  and  heroic  minds  of  the 
past,  where  nothing  small  or  sordid  ever  came. 
And  when  she  emerged  from  this  inner  life  of 
hers,  it  was  the  animals  who  were  her  com- 


134     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

panions,  it  was  they  that  she  studied,  and  with 
them  she  played.  Flowers  and  trees,  sunshine 
and  sunsets  she  loved,  everything  that  was 
sweet  and  good  and  beautiful,  but  the  animals, 
who  are  all  of  these  things,  she  loved  most  of 
all.  Her  pleasures  were  not  the  tea-parties, 
the  tennis  matches,  the  little  dances,  which  the 
other  girls  of  her  age  looked  forward  to,  her 
dreams  were  not  of  lacey  hats  and  rose-silk 
gowns.  In  the  cramped  drawing-room,  sur- 
rounded by  the  venomous  chatter  of  human 
beings,  stabbed  by  their  envious,  hate-filled 
glances  on  her  beauty,  she  felt  wearied  and 
bored,  but  in  the  garden  watching  the  cooing 
pigeons  courting  their  mates,  or  the  Per'sian 
cat  fondling  its  little  ones,  or  racing  Nelson, 
the  great,  glossy  retriever,  across  the  lawns, 
then  she  felt  happy  and  at  ease. 

The  song  of  the  blackbird  in  the  evening, 
when  the  sky  grew  red  behind  the  lines,  filled 
her  with  a  joy  she  could  not  analyse  nor  ex- 
plain, simply  she  sat  there  motionless,  listening 
with  all  her  soul  to  the  exquisite  melody  pour- 
ing so  easily  from  his  little  throat,  and  feeling 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        135 

the  peace  of  God  which  passeth  all  understand- 
ing, gathering  her  into  itself. 

The  last  Christmas  before  the  War,  her  aunt 
had  her  nephew,  Major  Brandon,  down  to 
stay  with  them  for  a  fortnight,  and  Lily  met 
her  cousin  for  the  first  time  since  she  had  left 
the  schoolroom.  He  was  a  very  handsome 
man,  taken  altogether,  certainly  the  hand- 
somest human  being  she  had  ever  seen.  He 
was  tall,  and  his  figure  was  beautiful  in  every 
line,  quite  as  beautiful  as  the  Persian  cat  she 
played  with  in  the  garden,  and  her  glossy  bay 
riding  mare.  Up  till  now  she  had  thought  all 
human  beings  rather  ugly,  ugly  -as  they  were 
stupid,  with  awkward  shambling  movements, 
compared  with  the  lithe  grace  of  animals  and 
the  swift  inimitable  flight  of  birds.  All  ani- 
mals and  birds  were^ 'beautiful  as  they  were  all 
clever  and  sweet  and  loving.  Human  beings 
mostly  were  as  dull  -and  plain  as  they  were 
spiteful  and  evil  speaking,  but  Douglas  Bran- 
don was  really  a  pleasure  to  gaze  at,  so  full  of 
strength  and  symmetry,  and  with  great  brown 
eyes  as  dark  and  clear  as  the  eyes  of  an  ox,  and 


136    DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

straight  noble  features,  and  a  quick  warm  flush 
under  the  clear  skin  of  his  cheek.  They  met 
at  dinner.  Lily,  dressed  in  a  straight  white 
silk  frock  with  a  girdle  of  gold  cord  round  her 
slender  waist  and  a  tiny  gold  chain  about  her 
throat  looked  exactly  like  a  flower  in  its  open- 
ing bloom,  and  Douglas,  delighted  with  her 
beauty,  gazed  on  her  with  fire  steadily  growing 
in  the  velvet  darkness  of  his  eyes.  He  laughed 
and  talked,  told  stories,  and  laid  himself  out 
to  amuse  her  and  her  aunt,  exerted  himself  to 
be  perfectly  charming,  and  succeeded  abso- 
lutely. 

After  dinner,  when  the  curtains  were  drawn 
closely  over  the  windows  in  the  drawing-room, 
and  the  logs  were  blazing  cheerily  on  the 
hearth,  her  aunt  dozed  in  an  armchair  and 
Douglas  drew  his  own  near  to  Lily's  and  con- 
versed in  a  soft  undertone,  and  under  pretence 
of  telling  her  fortune  took  her  little  white  petal 
of  a  hand  and  held  it  lovingly,  deferentially  in 
his,  and  at  ten,  when  she  went  up  to  her 
topmost  room  amongst  the  swallows'  nests  and 
the  climbing  jessamine,  at  this  season,  empty 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        137 

nests  and  bare  wind-shaken  boughs,  she  realised 
exactly  that  the  incident  she  had  so  often 
watched  from  its'  first  inception  to  its  end  in 
the  animal  world  she  loved,  was  taking  place 
now  in  her  own  life. 

The  blue-grey  Persian  of  infinite  beauty  and 
litheness  had  leapt  over  the  fruit  garden's  high 
wall  to  woo  the  snow-white  Persian,  a  darling 
of  kittenhood  that  gambolled  with  the  butter- 
flies along  the  sunny,  bricked  paths,  between 
walls  of  peach  and  plum.  Instinctively  she 
knew  now  that  into  the  walled  garden  of  her 
life  had  come — a  mate. 

She'was  amused,  interested,  pleased  but  not 
extremely  so.  She  undressed  quickly  in  the 
chill  air,  got  into  her  little  fluffy  white  bed, 
put  her  hand  under  her  cheek  and  fell  asleep, 
with  only  a  passing  thought  of  an  eye,  not 
quite  so  beautiful  as  the  velvet  darkness  of  the 
bovine  eye,  and  of  a  figure  not  more  graceful 
than  a  cat's.  Love  came  to  all.  She  slept 
tranquilly.  She  was  not  one  to  question  the 
decrees  of  Nature  and  of  Fate. 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast,  Douglas, 


138     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

gazing  at  Lily,  realised  that  if  she  had  looked 
lovely  last  night,  she  looked  lovelier  still  this 
morning  behind  the  coffee-pot  and  silver  ket- 
tle. Like  most  fair  people  she  looked  her  best 
in  the  white  light  of  early  day.  It  showed  the 
heavenly  blue  of  the  lustrous  eyes  whereas  at 
night  they  looked  black,  and  the  untouched 
silky  whiteness  of  her  skin. 

Her  aunt  did  not  appear  at  breakfast  and 
the  two  young  people  talked  gaily  together, 
their  conversation  wandering  over  many 
grounds,  and  Lily,  responsive  but  not  assertive, 
rarely  offering  an  opinion  and  listening  in- 
tently to  all  he  said  never  suggested  for  a  mo- 
ment to  the  not  very  observant  male  mind  that 
she  was  judging  him  accurately  and  impartially 
and  forming  an  imperishable  and  indestructible 
estimate  of  him. 

Douglas  had  been  at  Eton,  and  from  there 
had  passed  through  Woolwich,  to  the  Army. 
And  the  Army  was  not  only  his  career,  it  was 
his  life.  He  was  an  excellent  officer.  For  the 
rest  he  was  what  is  generally  understood  by  an 
English  gentleman.  He  knew  nothing  of  mu- 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        139 

sic  and  when  Lily  had  offered  last  evening  to 
sing  and  play  for  him  he  had  said,  "Oh  no, 
let's  talk,"  nothing  of  painting,  sketching, 
sculpture  or  any  of  the  arts,  nothing  of  old- 
world  history,  his  studies  of  the  classics  having 
been  superseded  by  mathematics.  Besides, 
the  human  mind  retains  in  memory  what  it 
most  loves,  and  since  to  Douglas,  'all  the  sub- 
limity of  ancient  literature  and  philosophy,  all 
the  glorious  sentiments  of  past  ages,  all  the 
music  of  Pindar  and  all  the  wisdo*m  of  Plato, 
had  always  seemed  "a  precious  lot  of  rot"  he 
was  not  likely  to  have  remembered  much  of  it. 
Scenery,  and  beauty  in  anything  except  the 
female  human  being,  he  could  not  see.  Imag- 
ination he  had  none,  and  he  never  thought. 

He  was  a  good  polo  player,  a  good  pig- 
sticker, a  good  shot.  He  rode  well  and  swam 
and  .sculled  and  liked  eating  and  drinking  and 
fighting  and  hunting  and  fishing. 

All  this  came  out  quite  simply  and  easily  in 
their  conversation,  following  on  her  soft  re- 
marks which  covered  deft  inquiries.  All  was 
noted  and  swiftly  engraved  on  the  bright  steel- 


140     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

like  tablets  of  her  mind  while  the  blue  eyes 
beneath  their  curling  lashes  seemed  to  smile 
approval  and  encouragement  after  each  damn- 
ing statement  that  he  made.  On  his  side,  he 
never  troubled  about  Lily's  thoughts  or  views. 
He  supposed  that  like  himself,  she  had  not  got 
any.  He  saw  before  him  a  creature  who  had 
youth  and  beauty — the  only  two  things  that 
men  think  they  value.  She  was  well  bred,  well 
brought  up,  of  good  birth.  She  had  a  charm- 
ing manner  and  a  lovely  voice  and  he  meant  to 
marry  her  for  the  flame  of  passion  scorched 
him  from  brow  to  heel  like  a  great  sword  driven 
through  his  being.  She  had  no  money  and  he 
was  glad.  He  wanted  none.  He  had  plenty 
and  it  always  seemed  to  him  a  wife  was  easier 
to  keep  in  order  if  she  had  nothing  of  her  own. 
Of  Lily's  feelings  he  never  thought.  Whether 
he  could  make  her  happy,  whether  the  life  he 
had  to  offer  would  suit  her,  whether  he  was 
worthy  of  her,  such  considerations  never  came 
near  him.  His  regard  for  her  was  exactly  his 
regard  for  a  glowing  peach  growing  on  a  sunny 
sheltered  wall  and  accidentally  espied  by  him. 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        141 

He  would  tear  it  down,  set  his  strong  white 
teeth  in  it  and  devour  it.  He  didn't  care  about 
the  peach  except  for  the  pleasure  it  gave  him, 
and  he  felt  to  the  girl  exactly  the  same,  only  the 
peach  did  not  have  to  be  consulted  before  being 
eaten  and  Lily  did.  So  in  order  to  make  sure 
of  her  consent  to  the  process,  he  had  to  throw 
deference  into  his  eyes  and  tones  and  would 
buy  her  goodwill  with  expensive  presents  and 
much  flattery. 

They  finished  their  breakfast  and  went  into 
the  garden.  It  was  quite  wild  and  the  roses 
were  still  blooming,  a  delight  to  Lily,  but  Dou- 
glas did  not  care  for  roses,  nor  trees,  nor  birds, 
nor  anything  to  be  found  in  -the  garden.  He 
expressed  surprise  that  there  were  no  tennis 
courts,  that  was  the  only  comment  he  made  and 
then  suggested  a  walk  into  town.  Arrived 
there,  Lily  took  him  into  the  cathedral,  to  her  a 
place  -of  wonder,  of  divine  peace,  of  ineffable 
charm  and  awe  and  mystery  where  the  writing 
of  the  ages  stands  round  one  in  solid  pillar  and 
carved  capital.  But  Douglas  knew  nothing  of 
architecture,  nor  of  stained  glass  windows,  and 


142     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

saw  nothing  of  mysticism  or  charm  anywhere, 
so  they  left  the  sacred  edifice  just  as  one  deep 
note  from  the  organ  went  pealing  through  the 
arches. 

"Oh,  I  say,"  said  Maj-or  Brandon  hastily, 
"he  is  going  to  play,  let's  get  -out,"  and  they 
passed  through  the  ancient  portals  where  the 
tooth  of  time  and  Horace's  "edax  imber"  had 
been  so  long  at  work  and  went  and  found  a 
boot-shop  where  Brandon  spent  half  an  hour 
ordering  some  boots  while  Lily  sat  re'ading  an 
illustrated  paper  in  the  front  of  the  store  where 
he  had  left  her. 

There  was  a  little  tilt  of  her  eyelashes,  a  lit- 
tle curl  of  her  lip,  that  was  not  brought  there 
by  the  comic  bits  in  the  paper.  They  drove 
back  to  luncheon  and  after  took  a  long  walk  to- 
gether in  the  mild  winter  afternoon  and  Dou- 
glas looked  extremely  handsome,  his  cheeks 
flushed  with  exercise,  and  his  great  dark  eyes 
bright  and  animated  with  passion  as  he  walked 
beside  her.  He  was  so  much  handsomer  out- 
side than  inside,  that  Lily  almost  wished  he 
would  walk  in  silence,  instead  of  turning  out 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        143 

the  inside  of  his  character  for  her  to  see.  She 
knew  enough  now  and  she  ceased  to  elicit  by 
soft  phrases  any  further  information. 

When  they  had  returned  from  their  walk 
and  separated,  each  to  go  to  their  room  to  dress 
for  dinner,  his  comment  to  himself  was,  "We're 
getting  along  splendidly,  the  little  witch  is  half 
in  love  already,"  and  hers  to  herself  was,  "He 
can  never  enter  into  my  inner  world  but  per- 
haps for  other  things  he  might  do." 

On  the  last  evening  of  his  stay,  their  aunt 
retired  earlier  than  usual  leaving  them  sitting 
side  by  side  before  the  fire.  She  told  Lily  not 
to  stay  up  late  but  to  come  in  and  say  "Good 
night"  to  her  at  half  past  ten  on  her  way  to  bed. 
Then  the  door  closed  behind  her  and  Brandon's 
arm  went  round  Lily's  delicate  silk-clothed 
waist  and  his  other  hand  seized  hers  and  drew 
towards  him,  the  shell-tinted  fingers  resting  in 
her  lap.  "Darling,  I  love  you  so  much.  Will 
you  come  out  to  Egypt  with  me?  I  am  or- 
dered there  in  a  month.  We  could  be  married 
in  town  and  spend  our  honeymoon  there.  I 
know  you  would  love  Cairo  and  the  life  there." 


144     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

He  had  no  possible  ground  for  supposing  this, 
but  it  sounded  well. 

Lily  sat  quite  still,  looking  into  the  fire.  He 
waited.  Then,  as  she  had  not  drawn  away 
from  him  or  given  any  sign  of  aversion,  he 
pulled  her  round  to  him  and  kissed  her,  kissed 
her  on  her  pure  white  cheek,  on  her  gentle 
mouth,  on  her  brow  and  on  her  soft  springy 
hair  which  felt  like  crinkled  silk  under  his  lips. 
To  kiss  her,  after  that  fortnight  spent  with  her, 
under  the  pressure  of  the  rising  tide  of  passion 
within  him,  rigorously  kept  under,  was  like 
drinking  long  draughts  of  cooled  wine  after  a 
day's  journey  through  the  arid  desert.  Lily 
sank  into  his  arms  against  his  breast,  just  as 
the  gathered  rose  sinks  and  yields  under  the 
hot  hands  that  press  it.  Still  the  silence  lasted, 
then  he  said,  "Speak  to  me,  darling!  Tell  me 
you  love  me  and  will  marry  me!"  and  he  sat 
back  flushed,  animated,  exceedingly  handsome 
as  nature  only  allows  man  to  be  in  such  mo- 
ments. 

Lily  looked  at  him  and  her  lips  framed  a 
sweet  little  half  audible  "Yes." 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        145 

"Kiss  me,"  he  commanded,  and  then  to  his 
vague  surprise,  the  passive,  silent,  shy,  half  in- 
fantile creature  before  him  seemed  to  pass 
through  a  subtle  metamorphosis.  Her  eyes 
widened  and  grew  full  of  fire,  scarlet  colour 
glowed  in  her  lips.  She  lifted  her  slender  arms 
and  twined  them  passionately  round  his  neck 
and  kissed  him  over  and  over  again,  while  he 
felt  her  heart  beating  and  leaping  against  his 
breast.  It  was  astonishing.  He  had  some- 
how expected  her  to  shrink  from  him  and  be 
timidly  frightened  rather  than  pleased  at  his 
caresses  and  quite  incapable  of  returning  them. 
This  was  bewildering  but  it  was  delightful  too, 
intoxicating,  enchanting.  He  showed  none  of 
the  surprise  he  felt,  did  nothing  to  check  that 
warm  innocent  ardour  but  welcomed  her  into 
his  arms  and  revelled  in  her  soft  enthusiastic 
kisses. 

Whatever  his  faults,  the  two  patron  dei- 
ties of  his  life,  the  only  gods  he  knew,  Mars 
and  Venus,  had  never  any  cause  to  complain 
of  him.  He  was  always  ready  and  eager  to 
respond  to  the  call  of  either  of  them.  He  was 


146     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

delightfully  flattered  and  pleased  by  her  enthu- 
siasm, her  sudden  awakening  into  this  vivid 
emotion  under  his  kiss.  He  would  have  been 
less  flattered  and  less  pleased  had  he  seen  into 
the  girl's  mind  and  understood  her  attitude  to- 
wards him.  To  her,  this  scene  in  the  drawing- 
room  was  but  the  replica  of  those  pictures  she 
had  often  watched  amongst  the  leaves  in  the 
garden.  She  was  now  the  white  kitten  being 
caressed  and  courted  by  the  noble  Persian  from 
the  Abbey  grounds,  and  though  the  marriage 
ceremony  would  be  more  formal  and  delayed, 
the  feelings  and  motives  that  led  up  to  it,  were 
exactly  the  same.  Although  she  would  be 
taken  to  a  sacred  edifice  and  many  religious 
words  said  over  her  and  about  their  union,  she 
knew  very  well  that  there  would  be  nothing  sa- 
cred about  it.  She  knew  this  man  had  no  real 
love  or  consideration  for  her,  that  if  she  lost 
those  attributes  which  pleased  him,  he  would 
not  care  a  straw  if  she  died  in  the  gutter  before 
his  eyes.  She  knew  that  she  was  the  fruit  on 
the  wall  which  he  longed  to  gather  and  devour. 
For  her  own  part,  she  knew  that  the  world  in 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        147 

which  she  lived,  filled  with  mystic  music  and 
the  most  elevated  thoughts,  with  the  songs  of 
Pindar  and  the  lofty  ideals  of  Buddha,  with 
glorious  visions  and  vistas  of  unknown  worlds, 
must  ever  be  closed  to  him.  And  how  could 
she  love  him  in  the  sense  that  the  soul  loves,  a 
man  with  an  intelligence  far  below  the  guinea- 
pig's  and  with  a  delight  in  slaughter  more  cruel 
than  the  tiger's?  No,  the  soul  must  stand  aloof 
from  such  a  union.  But  the  wind  that  nature 
causes  to  blow  across  the  world  fertilising  it 
from  end  to  end,  was  driving  these  two  to- 
gether. Love,  or  rather  this  breath  of  desire 
that  animates  our  dust,  comes  to  all.  Why 
should  she  not  have  her  share  though  her  soul 
dwelt  in  marble  palaces  alone,  where  the  infi- 
del's foot  might  never  tread  ?  She  remembered 
the  snow-white  kitten  under  the  sunny  wall  and 
she  accepted  Brandon's  kisses  and  gave  him 
back  the  most  charming  endearments,  exquis- 
ite, dainty  and  innocent,  copied  from  the  feline 
blue-eyed  fairy  in  the  garden.  When  the  first 
fervour  had  subsided,  he  drew  out  a  sapphire 
ring  and  put  it  on  her  finger. 


148     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

"You  will  marry  me  soon?"  he  asked  again. 

"If  my  aunt  approves." 

"You  dear  old-fashioned  little  prig,"  he  re- 
turned laughing,  "don't  you  know  we've  done 
with  the  age  of  'ask  Mama.'  The  old  lady  will 
have  to  approve.  If  not,  we'll  j  oily  well  marry 
without  her  approval." 

Lily's  lip  set,  ever  so  slightly. 

"Aunt  Alicia  has  been  very  good  to  me.  I 
would  not  do  anything  to  grieve  her." 

"She'll  approve  all  right,"  remarked  the  man 
lightly,  "otherwise,  why  ask  me  down?" 

"I  will  tell  you  to-morrow,  and  if  she  con- 
sents it's  'Yes,'  "  returned  Lily.  "Now,  good 
night,  dear  darling,"  and  she  kissed  him  again 
on  his  charmingly  cut,  and  perfectly  turned 
mouth  and  then  slid  away  from  him,  deaf  to 
protestations,  untwining  herself  from  his  cling- 
ing arms. 

On  her  way  upstairs  she  went  into  her  aunt's 
room  and  found  her,  as  she  half  expected,  not 
in  bed  but  sitting  by  the  fire  reading.  She 
looked  up  as  her  niece  entered,  and  Lily  came 
in  and  took  a  chair  opposite  her. 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY 

"Douglas  has  asked  me  to  marry  him. 
Would  you  like  me  to?"  she  said  simply. 

Her  aunt  looked  a  little  surprised.  It  was 
not  surprise  at  the  news  but  at  the  girl's  way  of 
communicating  it. 

"Dear  child,  it's  a  matter  for  yourself,"  she 
answered.  "Do  you  love  him?" 

The  girl's  glorious  radiant  eyes  fixed  them- 
selves on  the  kind  old  eyes  opposite  her. 

Love!  Love  seemed  so  remote,  so  es- 
tranged, so  incongruous,  in  connection  with 
herself  and  Douglas. 

"I  like  him  to  kiss  me,"  she  murmured  at 
last,  "but  he  doesn't  admire  the  cathedral,  nor 
care  for  animals,  nor  music,  nor  art,  and  he's 
forgotten  even  where  Troy  was."  She 
stopped,  but  the  inference:  How  can  I  love 
such  a  person?  was  quite  clear. 

Her  aunt  did  not  answer  immediately.  She 
gazed  into  the  fire  in  silence.  Then  she  said 
slowly  like  one  remembering  past  things,  "You 
like  him  to  kiss  you.  Yes,  that  is  one  of  their 
best  uses.  To  kiss  us,  to  work  for  us,  to  fight 
for  us.  That's  what  men  are  for.  As  long  MX 


150     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEX 

one  expects  nothing  else  from  them,  it's  all 
right."  She  paused,  then  she  added,  "a  man 
can  never  be  a  companion  to  a  woman's  soul. 
Sometimes  I  think  they  have  no  souls  them- 
selves and  never  must  you  think  they  can  give 
you  sympathy  nor  that  they  possess  such  things 
as  honour  or  fidelity  or  truth  where  women  are 
concerned.  Men  are  selfish,  stupid  brutes, 
their  public  schools  and  colleges  make  them 
that.  If  we  had  the  training  of  them,  we 
would  make  them  very  different." 

"Are  they  all  as  bad  as  Douglas?"  queried 
Lily  timidly.  "He  is  the  first  I  have  seen, 
close." 

Alicia  straightened  herself  in  the  chair,  a 
look  of  animation  lighted  up  her  face,  in  the 
soft  glow  from  the  fire  her  fine  features  took 
on  a  youthful  light. 

"Lily,  you  know  I  was  a  beauty  in  past  days. 
I  travelled  with  my  father,  I  saw  the  world  and 
many  many  men.  My  first  offer  of  marriage 
was  made  me  at  sixteen.  I  was  not  satisfied 
with  the  man.  I  waited  for  others  thinking 
they  would  be  different.  I  have  had  over  three 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        151 

hundred  offers.  Fifteen  of  them  were  in  as 
many  different  languages.  Do  you  know 
what  I  found?  They  were  all  alike.  Super- 
ficially, yes,  men  differ,  fundamentally  no. 
Little  things  are  different:  colour  of  hair  and 
eyes  and  skin;  in  essentials,  there  is  not  a  hair's 
breadth  of  difference  between  one  man  and  an- 
other. Take  a  man  from  the  farthest  ends  of 
the  earth  and  put  him,  side  by  side,  with  an 
English  country  gentleman.  Below  the  sur- 
face they  will  be  alike.  Their  proposals  will  be 
alike  and  made  in  the  same  way.  Their  insane 
jealousy,  their  untruthfulness,  their  lack  of 
honour,  their  intense  selfishness,  their  ineffable 
stupidity  will  be  the  same  in  every  case." 

Lily  gazed  at  her  aunt  fascinated.  She  had 
never  spoken  to  her  so  intimately  before  and 
the  girl  listened  to  her,  awe-struck.  She  was 
not,  evidently,  the  least  bitter.  She  spoke  as 
a  professor  expounding  the  nature  and  habits 
of  an  interesting  natural  history  specimen. 

"So,  dear,"  Alicia  continued,  "if  you  like  be- 
ing kissed  and  must  therefore  marry,  you  may 
as  well  marry  Douglas  as  any  other.  There  is 


152     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

no  need  for  you  to  hurry.  You  will  have  lots 
and  lots  of  offers  as  I  have  had,  but  what  you 
are  vaguely  thinking  of,  a  good,  true,  sympa- 
thetic man  as  intelligent  as  a  woman  or  an  ani- 
mal, that  you  will  never  find." 

"I  see,"  return  Lily  with  a  sigh. 

Alicia  smiled  at  her.  "Marry  Douglas  by 
all  means  if  you  like,  only  remember  in  dealing 
with  him  or  any  man,  expect  nothing" 

She  rose  and  kissed  her  niece  and  said  good 
night  and  Lily  went  slowly  up  to  bed  thinking 
over  this  good  advice. 

A  month  later  they  were  married  very  sol- 
emnly with  a  very  fine  service  and  swore  with 
the  utmost  gravity,  a  variety  of  absolutely  im- 
possible things,  after  the  manner  of  human  be- 
ings and  then  left  to  spend  their  honeymoon 
in  Cairo. 

The  honeymoon  was  splendid,  much  better 
than  most  honeymoons  which  are  frequently 
anything  but  honied.  These  two  were  both 
singularly  gifted  with  good  health  and  im- 
mensely pleased  with  each  other  in  a  physical 
sense.  Therefore  the  idyll  of  the  white  kitten 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        153 

and  Persian  cat  was  satisfactorily  repeated  and 
Lily  found  it  all  just  as  ecstatic  as  the  white 
kitten  had  done.  Murmurs  of  love  and  kisses 
are  the  most  soothing  drugs,  and  matters  such 
as  the  situation  of  ancient  Troy  and  the  beau- 
ties of  a  cathedral  were  left  in  abeyance. 

As  nearly  as  possible  with  the  end  of  the 
month  came  the  end  of  the  idyll.  Brandon 
pale  and  fretful,  told  her  one  night  that  he 
should  sleep  in  the  dressing-room,  he  was  dead 
tired,  had  a  bad  head  and  must  get  a  good 
night's  rest. 

Lily  acquiesced  with  exquisite  sweetness  and 
sympathy,  and  when  the  door  of  her  room  was 
shut  and  she  was  alone,  she  pushed  open  the 
wide  casement  and  gazed  out  into  the  tropic 
splendour  of  the  night.  She  did  not  regret  his 
absence.  She  also  was  tired,  and  glad  to  be 
alone. 

She  recognised  what  had  happened.  She  re- 
membered that  after  a  considerable  time  of 
regular  visits  the  Persian  cat  had  gone  back  to 
the  Abbey  and  the  little  white  kitten  played 
alone  bv  the  wall.  In  course  of  time  she  had 


154     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

multiplied  herself  with  five  little  creatures  of 
fairy  loveliness  and  then  in  the  spring  Lily  had 
seen  her  again  with  a  mate,  but  this  time  it  was 
one  of  a  velvet  blackness,  and  she  was  as  gay 
and  happy  in  his  caresses  as  she  had  been  with 
the  Persian.  It  occurred  to  Lily  now  sitting 
alone  in  the  fragrant  darkness  that  as  the  his- 
tory of  their  love  had  so  closely  followed  so 
far  the  episode  of  the  Persian  cats,  it  was 
rather  a  pity  it  could  not  end  in  the  same  way. 
She  rather  wished  there  was  an  Abbey  near  by 
to  which  Major  Brandon  could  retire,  leaving 
her  alone  to  the  joys  and  cares  of  maternity 
and  with  the  freedom,  these  once  over,  to  join 
again  in  the  laughing  dancing  world,  to  choose 
another  mate  another  season.  These  thoughts 
chased  through  the  girl's  brain  as  she  sat  watch- 
ing the  stars  wheel  and  flash  in  the  purple  sky 
above  and  the  tiny  white  moths,  existing  but 
for  an  hour,  flitting  back  and  forth  across  her 
windowsill.  But  she  knew  such  thoughts  were 
vain.  The  wedding  ceremony  altered  things. 
"Till  death  do  us  part"  she  repeated  the  words 
wonderingly  to  herself.  Why  on  earth  should 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        155 

she  live  with  and  love  and  cleave  to  and  honour 
and  obey  and  nurse  and  cherish  this  boring  man 
whom  she  had  never  seen  until  six  weeks  ago 
and  who  did  not  love  her  any  more  than  he 
loved  his  soup  at  dinner? 

The  logic  of  the  thing  seemed  to  her  abso- 
lutely preposterous  and  ridiculous.  He  was 
an  absolute  stranger  to  her  heart  and  soul  and 
brain,  he  did  not  know  any  of  her  thoughts, 
and  would  have  been  incapable  of  understand- 
ing them  if  he  had.  Well,  she  had  never  had 
much  human  companionship.  She  had  always 
lived  in  that  inner  world  of  hers,  that  world  of 
thought,  philosophy,  of  ideas,  her  joys  had  al- 
ways been  in  art,  in  study  and  in  the  beauty  of 
nature  and  the  companionship  of  animals,  and 
her  marriage  had  done  this  much  for  her,  it 
had  brought  her  to  a  new  part  of  the  world,  to 
a  place  where  skies  were  golden  and  the  sunsets 
visions  of  glory  where  she  could  watch  the 
dreaming  Nile  flow  past  its  miraculous  pink 
hills,  under  its  waving  palms.  Whatever 
Brandon  did  or  did  not,  was  or  was  not,  she 
could  never  be  unhappy  here.  She  leaned  out 


156     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

of  her  window  to  draw  in  the  breath  coming 
up  from  the  gardens  beneath.  The  breath  of  a 
myriad  roses  asleep  under  the  stars.  She 
stretched  out  her  arms  to  the  wondrous  peace 
and  fragrance  and  mysterious  charm  of  the 
Eastern  night  and  Egypt,  centuries-old  mother 
of  mankind,  took  her  and  folded  her  to  its 
bosom. 

Cairo  was  very  full  that  season  when  the 
Brandons  were  there  and  very  gay,  and  Lily, 
by  reason  of  course,  of  her  youth  and  beauty 
and  bridehood,  sipped  of  the  very  cream  of  its 
pleasures  and  gaieties.  Social  life  never  at- 
tracted her,  she  hated  the  mockery  of  it  and  the 
selfish  malice  that  underlay  all  the  apparent 
friendliness,  the  venomous  desire  to  wound,  to 
hurt,  to  destroy  the  pleasure  of  each  other  that 
prompts  all  these  senseless  human  beings,  but 
she  loved  dancing.  Music  was  the  life  of  her 
soul  and  the  physical  expression  of  music, 
which  is  dancing,  was  a  supreme  ecstasy  to  her. 
There  was  a  ball  every  night  at  Cairo  and  she 
went  to  them  all.  Brandon  disliked  music  and 
could  not  dance,  but  there  were  plenty  of  men 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        157 

to  whom  he  could  talk,  pleasant  side-rooms 
where  one  could  play  billiards,  smoke,  or  read 
the  latest  papers,  and  various  dainty  curtained 
little  dens  where  one  could  have  unlimited 
drinks.  So  he  did  not  object  to  accompanying 
Lily,  and  it  seemed  quite  a  reasonable  thing  for 
her  to  wish  to  dance.  All  officers'  wives  did. 
It  was  as  much  the  way  of  the  army  wife  to 
dance  as  of  her  husband  to  fight.  Lily  had 
but  six  simple  evening  dresses,  and  she  wore 
them  each  in  turn,  and  then  began  again.  All 
the  women  and  girls  there,  did  their  level  best 
to  make  her  uncomfortable  by  laughing  at  her 
"rotatory"  method  of  changing  her  frocks,  and 
by  shrugging  their  shoulders  as  she  passed  their 
gorgeous  toilettes  in  her  simple  wisps  of  black 
or  white  or  pink.  But  Lily  did  not  care.  She 
knew  she  was  beautiful,  and  saw  that  the  men 
thought  her  so.  She  never  retaliated,  never 
uttered  an  unkind  word,  or  let  her  lip  curl  at 
the  fattest  Jewess  in  the  most  outrageous  gown. 
Neither  did  she  envy  the  enormous  wealth  that 
was  often  displayed  about  her;  nor  did  any 
jealousy  of  another  girl's  beauty  nor  of  an- 


158     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

other  woman's  diamonds  come  near  her.  She 
was  one  of  those  who  are  born  full  of  the 
Grace  of  God,  and  her  little  feet  trod  on  no 
one's  heart,  trampled  on  no  one's  feelings,  as 
with  an  exquisite  happiness,  she  danced  away 
the  hours  of  those  brilliant  nights. 

One  evening  there  was  an  unusually  beauti- 
ful ball  and  fete  given  by  one  of  the  big  hotels ; 
the  grounds  of  which  were  all  illuminated,  and 
the  inner  rooms  decorated  with  palms  and 
roses.  Lily  was  there,  wild  with  delighted  an- 
imation, for  Fate  had  sent  her  a  partner  whose 
step  exactly  suited  hers,  and  the  joy  of  the 
perfect  dance  is  indescribable.  He  was  an 
American,  young  and  good-looking,  a  musician 
of  great  natural  gifts  and  ear,  and  an  enthusi- 
astic dancer.  To  Lily,  who  had  found  hitherto 
her  partners  often  spoiled  the  dances  by  want 
of  skill,  this  man's  art  came  as  a  revelation. 
His  feet  had  a  velvet  touch  on  the  floor,  his 
embrace  of  her  was  so  light  she  hardly  felt  it, 
yet  the  strength  of  it  was  so  great  that  they 
seemed  to  turn  and  move  as  one.  It  was  just 
the  simple  Austrian  waltz  that  they  were  danc- 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        159 

ing,  but  he  danced  with  long  steps  taken  ex- 
tremely fast,  so  that  they  seemed  to  be  flying 
rather  than  dancing.  It  seemed  to  Lily  that 
an  extraordinary  force,  partly  thrown  into  her- 
self, still  partly  outside,  was  lifting  her  up, 
bearing  her  round  and  round  in  those  flying 
circles  in  which  the  earth  seemed  left  behind, 
and  like  two  swallows  they  skimmed  through 
space.  It  was  beautiful  to  do,  and  nearly  as 
beautiful  to  watch.  Little  groups  gathered 
here  and  there  in  the  corner  of  the  room  to 
stand  and  watch  them  go  by.  Others'  part- 
ners grew  tired  and  stopped,  sat  down,  or  went 
out  to  the  cool  of  the  garden;  these  two,  as 
long  as  the  music  continued,  swept  on  in  their 
airy  flight. 

When  the  band  ceased,  and  only  then,  they 
stopped.  He  looked  into  the  fair  unflushed 
face  of  his  partner;  beyond  the  light  in  her 
eyes,  and  the  bright  glow  in  her  lips,  the  dance 
had  not  affected  her. 

"That  went  all  right?"  he  said  gently. 

"It  was  heaven,"  she  answered  simply,  and 
he  laughed. 


160     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

"Come  now,  let  me  get  you  an  ice  or  some- 
thing outside.  May  we  have  the  next  to- 
gether?" 

"I  would  love  to  but  I  think  I'm  engaged." 

They  passed  out  of  the  ball-room,  and  he 
steered  her  through  a  side  suite  of  rooms  which 
was  a  quick  way  to  the  large  buffet  in  a  flower- 
girdled  tent  in  the  grounds. 

As  they  passed  through  the  last  little  room, 
which  was  dimly  lighted  by  an  Eastern  stained- 
glass  lamp  swinging  from  above,  Lily  suddenly 
gave  an  exclamation.  It  was  so  sharp,  though 
not  loud,  that  her  companion  started. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"Nothing  .  .  .  come  along,"  she  laid  her 
little  snowflake  of  a  hand  on  his  arm,  and  noth- 
ing loath,  the  American  hurried  on  with  her  to 
the  outer  air,  where  under  a  huge  banyan  tree 
he  found  her  a  chair,  and  then  started  off  to  the 
tent  in  quest  of  refreshments. 

Lily  leaned  back  against  the  tree  and 
thought.  What  she  had  seen  in  the  little  room, 
was  her  husband  sitting  on  a  corner  seat  half 
concealed  by  heavy  green  curtains  draped 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        161 

across  and  further  sheltered  by  a  screen,  and 
on  his  knee,  her  lips  on  his,  the  waitress  at  the 
bar  where  the  iced  drinks  were  served.  She 
knew  the  woman  well  by  sight,  a  common 
woman  .  .  .  not  very  pretty  .  .  .  such  a 
woman!  Surprise  was  her  chief  feeling. 

The  American  came  back  with  champagne 
and  delicious  ices,  and  they  sat  and  sipped  and 
rested  in  the  cool,  sweet,  scented  air. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do.  You  are  all  en- 
gaged, and  so  am  I,  up  to  two  o'clock,  but  as  I 
meant  to  go  home  early  I've  nothing  after  two. 
There  will  be  lots  more  dances  from  two  till 
four.  Let's  stay  till  four  and  take  them,  if 
you  haven't  given  them  already,"  this  from  her 
partner  as  he  gazed  admiringly  on  the  fair  soft 
head,  bare  of  all  ornament  except  its  own  lit- 
tle crinkled  waves. 

Usually  the  Brandons  left  about)  two.  She 
knew  Douglas  liked  it  better  than  staying,  as 
she  would  have  done,  to  the  end,  and  faithfully 
at  that  hour  she  would  seek  the  ante-room, 
where  sometimes  at  the  bar  or  asleep  on  a 
lounge,  she  would  find  her  husband  and  say  she 


162     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

was  ready.  It  struck  her,  however,  to-night 
she  would  not  go  to  the  ante-rooms,  and  also 
that  Major  Brandon  could  possibly  amuse  him- 
self to  the  later  hour.  She  was  always  tireless 
at  night  and  she  could  have  danced,  she  felt, 
through  eternal  centuries. 

"A  good  idea,"  she  answered.  "Come  for 
me  at  two.  The  rooms  will  be  more  empty. 
We'll  have  a  lovely  free  floor." 

Many  of  the  guests  left  at  two.  Lily,  who 
had  been  dancing  all  the  evening,  had  seen 
nothing  of  Douglas,  and  met  the  American 
coming  to  claim  her  with  a  smile. 

They  danced,  and  several  other  couples,  en- 
thusiasts like  themselves,  shared  the  floor  with 
them.  The  rooms  began  to  grow  cool  and 
empty ;  some  lookers-on  lounged  in  the  corners. 
Lily  danced  on  and  on,  intoxicated  with  the  di- 
vine joy  of  speed,  the  magic  of  swift  motion. 

"It  was  heaven  before:  it's  the  seventh 
heaven  now,"  she  whispered,  "that  the  crush 
is  over." 

Such  hours  in  life  seem  very  short.  Four 
o'clock  and  the  cold  light  of  day  seemed  to 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        163 

come  almost  immediately  after  two  o'clock,  and 
the  music  ceased  and  everything  seemed  sud- 
denly to  come  to  an  end.  Lily  said  "good 
night"  to  her  partner  after  promising  many 
dances  together  for  all  the  future  fetes,  and 
then  turning  to  go  to  the  dressing-room,  found 
herself  face  to  face  with  her  husband. 

"Oh,  Douglas,  there  you  are.  I  am  so  glad. 
I  was  just  going  to  fetch  my  cloak." 

"Yes,  I  should  think  it's  about  time,"  he 
returned  in  such  a  savage  tone  that  she  glanced 
at  him  in  surprise.  His  face  was  black  and 
scowling. 

"I  won't  be  a  minute,"  she  said,  and  dis- 
appeared. 

Not  a  word  did  he  utter  on  their  homeward 
drive,  and  Lily  sat  back  in  a  dream  going  over 
those  exquisite  last  hours,  and  feeling  the  thrill 
of  motion  still  in  all  her  blood. 

When  they  reached  their  own  quarters,  just 
as  she  was  going  to  say  "good  night,"  he  burst 
out: 

"What  do  you  mean  by  dancing  all  the  even- 
ing with  that  American  and  staying  there  till 


164     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

the  end  with  all  those  fellows  looking  on?" 

Lily  gazed  at  him:  quite  at  a  loss  to  account 
for  the  turgid  wrath  of  his  face,  the  fury  of  his 
eyes. 

"I  am  sorry  if  you  wanted  to  come  home  ear- 
lier. I  only  danced  the  last  dances  with 
Mason.  We  were  both  engaged  for  all  the 
early  ones  to  other  people,"  she  answered 
gently. 

"Making  yourself  the  laughing  stock  of 
Cairo,"  he  went  on  furiously,  "and  keeping  me 
up  to  all  hours !  Why  didn't  you  come  to  me 
at  two  o'clock  as  usual?" 

Lily  had  naturally  a  good  temper,  but  this 
attack  upon  her  seemed  so  uncalled  for  that  a 
spirit  of  indignation  came  into  her  words. 

"I  saw  you  in  the  grey  room  with  the  wait- 
ress on  your  knee,  and  I  thought  you  did  not 
want  to  be  interrupted.  That's  why  I  didn't 
come,"  she  answered. 

She  had  hardly  finished  when  Brandon 
sprang  forward  and  caught  her  arm.  He 
shook  her  till  she  was  almost  dazed. 

"Don't  answer  me  when  I  speak  to  you,"  he 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        165 

said,  in  a  voice  of  concentrated  rage  and  ex- 
actly as  if  she  had  been  a  servant,  "and  remem- 
ber this,  what  I  do  and  what  you  do  are  two 
different  things.  I  shall  have  any  number  of 
women  that  suits  me,  but  I'll  take  damned  good 
care  you  don't  disgrace  yourself.  We  go  up 
to  Wady  Haifa  to-morrow,  and  if  I  find  you 
write  to  that  fellow  Mason,  I'll  blow  his  brains 
out." 

Gripped  by  the  arm  in  his  savage  fingers 
she  glanced  up  at  his  distorted  face  bent  over 
her.  Curiosity  as  to  the  nature  of  this  extraor- 
dinary beast  that  man  proved  himself  to  be, 
filled  her  rather  than  any  fear.  She  had  al- 
ways heard  that  English  gentlemen  did  not 
strike  a  woman,  but  she  saw  the  impulse  to 
strike  her,  alive  in  his  face.  She  said  nothing 
from  sheer  astonishment,  and  the  next  instant 
Brandon  pushed  her  violently  from  him,  down 
the  two  little  steps  that  descended  to  her  room 
from  his,  and  banged  the  door  behind  her  with 
a  terrific  crash.  The  push  given  her  had  sent 
her  down  the  steps  and  onto  her  knees  on  the 
floor.  She  picked  herself  up  instantly. 


166     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

"And  it  is  said  that  women  are  illogical!" 
she  thought,  crossing  to  her  window  and  lean- 
ing her  arms  on  the  sill,  and  again  Egypt  took 
her  to  itself  and  soothed  and  comforted  her. 
•          •••••• 

Wady  Haifa  pleased  her  immensely;  that 
valley  of  deep  grass  set  amongst  the  hills. 
Brandon  liked  being  there  because  there  was 
some  sport  in  the  country  round.  Also  the 
hotel  had  an  uncommonly  good  cuisine,  and  the 
quail  there  were  the  fattest  in  Egypt.  The 
rooms,  too,  were  cool  and  comfortable.  Lily 
hardly  noticed  the  rooms  or  the  cuisine,  but  her 
whole  soul  went  out  to  the  garden:  long  and 
narrow,  and  ending  in  a  wild  shrubbery  of 
green  and  sweet-scented  things;  bauble  and 
mimosa,  oleander  and  eucalyptus,  poinsettia 
and  rose-trees,  rioted  there  together,  under  a 
roof  of  palms.  On  the  first  evening  after  ar- 
rival, Lily,  having  dressed  quickly  in  her  black 
chiffon  evening-gown,  and  hurriedly  twisted 
the  golden  coils  of  hair  round  her  shapely  head, 
went  out  down  the  narrow  centre  path  to  enjoy 
her  new  domain. 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        167 

This  would  be  her  happy  shrine  of  content- 
ment where  she  would  sit  and  muse  and  dream 
and  dream,  while  Brandon  drank  and  smoked 
at  the  club,  went  out  quail  shooting,  played  bil- 
liards, or  cuddled  his  waitresses  in  quiet  cor- 
ners. 

She  had  not  spoken  to  him  of  her  joy  in 
Wady  Haifa.  She  never  spoke  of  anything 
she  felt  to  him.  It  was  no  use.  The  idyll  was 
completely  finished  as  far  as  Lily  was  con- 
cerned. He  had  shaken  the  last  life  out  of  it 
the  night  of  the  dance.  She  regarded  him  now, 
as  indeed,  if  the  truth  were  fully  known,  a  vast 
number  of  women  do  regard  the  men  with 
whom  they  are  associated,  as  simply  a  boring 
circumstance  in  her  life,  something  to  put  up 
with,  as  one  does  with  a  cold.  He  was  a 
damper  on  her  happy  spirits,  a  restraint  on  her 
innocent  pleasures.  She  never  knew  at  what 
moment  he  might  fly  into  a  senseless  rage  with 
her,  and  her  cheeriest  hours  were  when  he  de- 
parted to  some  of  his  own  amusements  and  left 
her  to  herself.  He  had  brought  her  to  Egypt: 
that  was  his  one  saving  grace  for  which  she  was 


168    DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

always  grateful.  As  she  walked  this  evening, 
the  sky  was  red  with  the  sunset  fires,  every- 
thing about  her  glowed  in  the  softest  pink,  and 
she  walked  along  lightly,  charmed  at  the  bam- 
boo arches  over  the  intersecting  paths  and  the 
flight  of  the  hoopoes  through  the  oleander  trees. 
Suddenly  she  paused,  before  her  was  a  low 
archway  in  a  thicket  of  bauble  and  rose.  It 
was  dark  beyond,  a  green  darkness.  Before 
the  leafy  cave,  only  a  few  paces  from  her,  in 
her  path,  standing  with  head  erect  and  gently 
swaying  tail,  stood  a  magnificent  lioness. 
Tawny  sides,  gold  in  the  sunset  light,  open 
brow,  where  the  hair  grew  short  and  thick  and 
soft  as  velvet,  great  wide  and  kindly  eyes,  faced 
her  as  she  paused. 

"Oh,  you  beauty!"  she  said,  in  a  murmur  of 
love,  and  the  words  fell  softly,  in  her  magic 
voice,  on  the  ears  of  the  hesitating  animal. 
"You  perfect  love,  where  have  you  come 
from?"  and  the  lioness  lowered  her  ears  as  a 
dog  does  at  a  sweet  voice. 

From  between  the  oleander  trees  at  the  side 
came  a  sound  of  swishing  leaves,  and  then  the 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        169 

round  face  of  a  grinning  Arab  boy  appeared. 

"Him  very  good  lioness,"  he  explained  vol- 
ubly. "Him  pet  of  hotel,  never  hurt  anyone." 

Lily  had  hardly  needed  this  reassurance, 
nor  did  the  lioness  pay  any  heed  to  the  black 
boy's  eulogies. 

With  velvet  paws  and  sinuous  motion  she 
advanced  to  the  girl's  feet  and  there  sat  down, 
deliberately  leaning  her  smooth  heavy  side  and 
shoulder  against  Lily's  knee,  and  putting  up 
her  head  to  be  stroked  as  does  the  domestic  cat. 
Lily  bent  over  her,  and  gazed  into  those  deep, 
yellow  eyes :  eyes  where  the  red  fires  of  savage 
jungle  hate  and  jungle  lusts,  turn  into  such 
melting  looks  of  love  as  she  gazes  on  her  cubs, 
or,  as  now,  when  under  the  electric  spell  of  a 
really  pure  human  soul. 

The  tale  of  Una  and  the  lion,  and  of  Andro- 
cles  and  the  lion  are  true  all  the  world  over. 
Animals  and  man  are  of  the  same  brotherhood. 
It  is  only  the  cruelty  of  man  that  has  drawn  a 
line  between  them.  The  animal's  love  for  man 
is  always  there,  his  trust,  his  reverence,  and  the 
man  who  betrays  that  trust  and  is  guilty  of 


170     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEX 

cruelty  to  an  animal,  degrades  himself  below 
the  least  of  them. 

The  black  boy  squatted  on  his  heels,  the 
tassel  of  his  red  fez  swinging  over  his  ear,  and 
watched  the  beautiful  English  girl  bend  her 
golden  head  over  his  lioness,  with  contented 
black  eyes.  He  fed  the  lioness  and  brought  it 
water  and  dry  leaves  for  its  bed.  In  his  own 
way  he  loved  it,  but  he  felt  that  the  love  Lily 
showed  for  it  had  greater  force  than  his.  It 
seemed  to  come  from  some  great  store  within 
her  of  overwhelming  power,  and  it  did  not  sur- 
prise him  that  his  lioness  yielded  to  it,  since  he, 
too,  felt  he  could  sit  there  listening  to  those 
tones  of  love,  indefinitely. 

"To  whom  does  she  belong?"  asked  the  girl 
of  him,  looking  over  the  creature's  head  which 
rubbed  gently  against  the  silken  chiffon  folds 
of  her  gown. 

"Him  belong  manager  of  hotel.  Me  kitchen 
boy ;  me  feed  lioness,  me  do  everything,  me  take 
care  lioness  since  so  big,"  he  put  his  hands  out 
about  a  foot  apart.  "Him  lioness  brought  here 
by  one  English  officer,  him  here  ever  since." 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        171 

"It's  a  beautiful  creature,  you  must  be  proud 
of  it." 

"Me  very  proud,"  nodded  the  boy  genially. 
"Me  like  lioness  very  much." 

Further  talk  was  cut  short  by  the  booming 
of  the  dinner  gong  coming  down  through  the 
peace  of  the  garden,  and  Lily,  putting  her 
hands  round  the  animal's  soft  neck,  kissed  it 
between  its  eyes  and  went  back  quickly  up  the 
narrow  path  to  the  house. 

She  seldom  spoke  to  Brandon  about  any  of 
her  own  thoughts,  plans,  or  interests,  but  she 
was  so  full  of  delight  at  her  discovery  of  this 
new  playmate  that  the  confidence  slipped  out 
as  it  were,  by  accident. 

"Douglas,  I  found  such  a  lovely  lioness  in 
the  garden,"  she  said,  as  they  began  dinner. 

Brandon  looked  up. 

"A  what?"  he  asked. 

"A  lioness,  it  belongs  to  the  hotel.  It's  quite 
tame.  It  will  be  so  nice  to  play  with." 

"Do  you  mean  it's  loose  in  the  garden?" 

"Yes,  it  was  walking  about.  Oh,"  she  added 
hastily,  seeing  where  his  thoughts  were  tending, 


172     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

"it  wouldn't  do  any  harm.  The  boy  who  looks 
after  it  says  it's  been  here  since  a  cub." 

"Most  dangerous  I  should  say,"  returned 
Brandon,  going  on  with  his  soup,  "to  have  it 
wandering  about  like  that  ...  a  cub's  all 
right,  but  as  they  grow  up  they  get  savage.  I 
shall  speak  to  the  manager  about  it.  It  ought 
to  be  fastened  up." 

The  girl  bit  her  lips.  She  said  no  more. 
She  devoutly  hoped  he  would  forget  this  as 
quickly  as  he  generally  did  everything  she  said 
to  him. 

To  have  the  darling  creature  chained  up  or 
put  behind  bars,  as  a  result  of  her  stupid  tongue 
would  be  calamity  indeed. 

"One  must  always  remember  they  are  beasts 
of  prey,"  the  Major  continued,  "don't  trust 
it." 

"Very  good,"  murmured  Lily,  and  quickly 
•asked  him  if  it  had  been  hot  in  the  desert  that 
day  while  he  was  shooting,  and  what  luck  the 
party  had  had. 

That  night  Lily  sat  long  at  her  window  gaz- 
ing across  the  tangle  of  beauty  under  the  -moon- 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY       178 

light,  and  to  her  joy  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
tawny  form  pacing  majestically  with  silent 
footsteps,  the  stone-flagged  paths  between  the 
rose-trees. 

Some  days  passed.  The  Major  forgot  all 
about  the  lioness,  as  he  never  came  into  the 
garden,  and  the  verandah  where  he  smoked, 
drank,  and  slept,  lay  on  the  other  side  of  the 
house. 

The  hotel  was  very  empty  just  then  as  it  was 
late  in  the  season  and  most  of  the  travellers 
had  already  come  down  from  the  Soudan  and 
not  many  were  passing  up.  Brandon,  who 
never  felt  the  heat,  went  out  shooting  most 
days,  and  Lily  was  quite  content  with  all  the 
treasures  of  the  place,  the  baby  hoopoe  birds 
that  played  round  the  oleander,  the  palms  and 
half  ruined  mosque  of  which  she  made  a  little 
gem  of  a  water  colour,  and  the  enchanting 
lioness  that  followed  her  steps  and  lay  beside 
her  while  she  painted  and  to  whom  she  read 
aloud  the  Arabic  she  was  studying. 

One  evening  Brandon  came  back  late,  he 
had  missed  his  way  and  gone  too  far  down  a 


174     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

gully,  and  to  get  back  sooner  to  the  house,  he 
cut  across  a  rough  piece  of  ground  that  joined 
the  lower  end  of  the  garden.  A  huge  mass  of 
bauble,  bamboo,  and  oleander  hid  the  garden, 
and  just  as  he  was  passing  this,  following  a 
narrow  path  that  led  up  to  the  side  of  the 
hotel,  he  heard  a  sweet  magic  tone  that  could 
only  be  his  wife's  voice,  come  floating  through 
the  flowery  barrier. 

"Sa  eedah  aziz!  Bukra,  hena,  saar  saat" 
came  the  words  softly  to  his  ear,  and  then  the 
only  just  audible  sound  of  a  soft  kiss.  Then 
silence. 

Brandon  stopped  dumbfounded.  The  words 
were:  "Good  night,  beloved;  to-morrow,  here 
at  seven  o'clock,"  and  in  his  wife's  voice.  A 
kiss!  An  appointment  for  to-morrow  with 
her  beloved!  So  that  was  the  charm  of  the 
garden!  She  speaking  Arabic.  Why,  he 
never  knew  she  could  speak  it !  Then  it  must 
be  a  black !  A  black — his  wife ! 

He  stood  there  glaring,  rooted  to  the  spot. 
His  thoughts,  furious  disconnected  thoughts, 
dashed  stinging  through  his  brain.  He  gazed 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        175 

at  the  leafy  screen.     No  eye  could  penetrate 
it.     He  thought  of  calling  to  her,  but  by  now 
she  had  doubtless  sped  back  to  the  house,  there 
to  meet  him  with  her  innocent  smile.     He  had 
his  gun.     Should  he  fire  through  the  trees- 
was  the  miscreant  black  crouching  somewhere 
there  ?     Then  he  ground  his  teeth  and  tramped 
on  ferociously  to  the  hotel.     "To-morrow  at 
seven  o'clock."     There  seemed  an  added  in- 
sult to  his  sense  of  injury,  as  those  were  the 
very  words  he  had  spoken  this  morning  to 
Miss  Evangeline  Jinks  who  presided  over  the 
bar  attached  to  the  hotel,  and  whose  somewhat 
thick  fingers  had  fastened  into  his  buttonhole 
the  white  camellia  that  still  adorned  his  shoot- 
ing coat.     But  he  had  another  appointment 
now,  and  Miss  Jinks  would  have  to  console 
herself    with    a    subaltern.     His    plan    was 
formed.     He  would  leave  the  hotel  at  seven 
to-morrow  as  usual,  and  his  wife,  who  doubt- 
less had  fixed  her  assignation  for  the  time  when 
she  knew  him  always  to  be  away,  would  go  to 
her  guilty  tryst  thinking  he  was  well  out  of 
the  way.     But  where  he  would  go  would  be 


176    DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

the  oleander  thicket  whence  the  enchanting  love 
whisper  had  come.  There  he  would  confront 
the  shameful  pair,  and  his  revolver  would  soon 
settle  with  the  black.  While  Lily  .  .  .  Lily 
...  he  fumed  and  raged  and  could  not  settle 
what  should  be  Lily's  fate.  He  felt  mad 
enough  to  shoot  them  both. 

He  reached  the  hotel  in  a  black  fury,  which 
was  not  any  abated  by  the  sight  of  the  cool  and 
delicate  image  of  his  wife,  seated  waiting  for 
him  by  the  window.  She  had  finished  her 
painting  of  the  little  mosque,  and  was  looking 
at  it  with  that  peace  in  the  countenance  that 
only  comes  in  the  contemplation  of  what  the 
worker  knows  is  perfect  work. 

She  looked  up,  saw  the  flower  in  his  coat, 
knew  whose  hand  had  put  it  there,  saw  the 
scowl  on  his  face,  reflected  he  was  probably  in 
one  of  "his  rages,"  and  forbore  to  speak. 
After  a  little  smile  of  welcome,  she  let  her  eyes 
fall  again  on  the  infant  creation  of  her  brain. 

Brandon  passed  through  to  his  dressing- 
room,  where  she  heard  him  banging  and  kick- 
ing things  about,  and  cursing  his  Soudanese 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        177 

attendant.  He  did  not  address  her  till  dinner- 
time, and  she  kept  silence,  wondering  why  he 
looked  so  furious. 

"Been  out  in  the  garden?"  he  said,  presently. 

"Yes,  till  it  was  time  to  dress  for  dinner." 

"Anyone  with  you?" 

"Not  a  soul,"  then,  thinking  that  might 
sound  like  a  complaint,  she  added,  "I  don't 
mind  being  alone,  you  know  I  never  have,  and 
I  perfectly  adore  this  place.  I  hope  we  shan't 
have  to  go  for  ages." 

The  very  speech  to  confirm  his  monstrous 
suspicions. 

"Are  you  studying  Arabic?"  was  his  next 
abrupt  question. 

"Yes,"  replied  Lily,  rather  surprised  that 
he  should  take  the  least  interest  in  what  she 
was  doing,  but  quite  ready  to  respond.  "It's 
a  wonderful,  beautiful  language.  I've  got 
some  books  and  I  am  getting  on  quite  well." 

More  and  more  incriminating.  One  always 
loves  the  language  spoken  by  one's  "beloved." 
Brandon  scowled  into  his  plate  and  made  no 
reply  but  a  churlish  grunt. 


178  DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

The  following  day,  towards  the  fated  hour 
of  seven,  Miss  Jinks  in  her  little  room  above 
the  bar  in  the  annex  to  the  hotel,  was  frizzing 
her  rather  dusty  looking  hair  before  her  mir- 
ror, and  fixing  in  her  front  teeth.  Lily  with 
her  sketch-pad  under  one  arm  and  an  Arabic 
grammar  in  her  hand,  clothed  in  a  cool  white 
linen  with  a  knot  of  white  roses  at  her  breast, 
was  going  slowly  down  the  centre  garden  path, 
and  Brandon  with  soundless  rubber  shoes  on 
his  feet  and  a  newly  cleaned  and  loaded  re- 
volver in  his  pocket  was  creeping  round  by  a 
circuitous  path,  completely  overhung  with 
pomegranate  and  bamboo,  which  led,  outside 
the  garden,  to  the  back  of  the  oleander  thicket. 
Arrived  there,  he  crept  in,  parting  with  diffi- 
culty all  the  twining  undergrowth  of  tropical 
plants,  and  took  up  a  position  behind  a  screen 
of  shrubs,  so  thick  that  he  felt  sure  he  could 
not  be  seen,  but  between  the  leaves  of  which  he 
could  see  out  into  the  sunshine. 

In  front  of  the  grove  where  he  was,  ran  one 
of  the  narrow  garden  paths,  winding  from  the 
hotel  on  his  left  hand,  down  to  the  jungle  of 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        179 

flowers  and  palm  at  the  garden  end.  Directly 
opposite  him  was  the  great  mass  of  bamboo  and 
bauble  behind  which  he  had  passed  the  previous 
evening. 

Here  he  waited  for  Lily  and  his  vengeance, 
and  Miss  Jinks  waited  vainly  for  him,  in  the 
bar. 

The  air  was  still  extremely  hot,  yet  at  in- 
tervals a  little  breeze  amongst  the  sweet- 
scented  things  on  every  side  brought  a  hint  of 
coolness.  The  sky  stretched  above  a  tranquil 
blue  of  the  purity  of  a  flawless  sapphire.  The 
coo  of  some  doves  came  from  the  grove  of 
palms,  two  crimson  butterflies  fluttered  deli- 
cately above  the  path.  A  sense  of  repose  and 
peace  hovered  over  the  garden,  all  was  pleas- 
ing to  the  eye  and  ear,  all  nature  seemed  rest- 
ing beneath  a  canopy  of  fragrance,  awaiting 
the  evening  coolness.  Only  in  the  heart  of  the 
man  in  the  thicket  rioted  the  red  thirst  for 
murder  and  revenge.  Lily  came  along  the 
path;  he  could  see  her  light  gracious  walk, 
and  the  lustrous  eyes  beneath  their  arching 
brows,  glancing  from  side  to  side,  apparently 


180     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

drinking  in  all  the  beauty  round  her  with  de- 
light. She  was  chanting  softly  to  herself  some 
little  song,  and  her  lips  were  parted  and  bright 
in  their  smiling  curves.  She  came  close  past 
him  and  went  a  little  way  beyond.  Confound 
it,  where  was  she  going?  It  was  difficult  to 
follow  her  now;  the  leaves  were  so  thick  at 
his  side.  Still  he  could  see  her  back  and  shoul- 
ders and  golden  head.  Suddenly  his  blood 
seemed  to  stand  still  in  his  veins.  She  was 
speaking. 

"Oh,  darling,  here  you  are.  I  was  afraid  I 
should  miss  you  in  the  thicket.  How  fine  you 
look!  how  splendid!" 

This  in  the  loveliest  voice  surely  that  was 
ever  heard  out  of  Eden;  tones  so  rich  and  soft 
and  filled  with  the  enthusiasm  of  love ! 

Brandon's  blood  now  seemed  to  race  on 
again,  and  boil  and  seeth  with  wrath.  Red 
mists  swam  before  his  eyes.  He  dodged  the 
branches  this  way  and  that,  and  vainly  craned 
his  neck.  Where  was  the  fellow?  He  could 
not  see  him  though  he  could  still  the  back  of 
his  wife's  standing  figure.  She  had  been  speak- 


THE  BEAST  OF  PREY        181 

ing  English  now.  Perhaps  after  all  her  lover 
was  one  of  the  officers  stationed  here.  Could 
that  fellow  Mason  .  .  .  ?  He  clutched  his  re- 
volver tightly  and  brought  it  into  position, 
but  he  could  not  see  where  to  aim,  nor  could 
he  catch  any  reply  to  her  greeting.  He  made 
an  effort  to  part  the  branches  and  snapped  one. 
He  saw  that  Lily  started  and  turned.  Afraid 
that  he  had  given  warning  of  his  presence  and 
his  quarry  would  escape,  he  thrust  the  barrel 
of  the  weapon  through  the  leaves,  and  aiming 
in  front  of  her,  where  he  thought  her  lover 
must  be  standing,  he  fired. 

Instantly,  and  blinded  by  rage  and  savage 
jealousy  as  he  was,  he  fell  back  in  horror,  for 
the  white  clothed  figure  turned  and  threw  up 
its  arms  as  if  to  defend  some  object  and  ward 
off  the  blow. 

"Oh,  don't  shoot!"  came  her  voice  in  an 
agonised  cry,  that  changed  to  a  moan  of  physi- 
cal pain,  and  she  sank  down  on  the  path,  the 
shot  buried  in  her  breast. 

Blindly,  beside  himself  with  he  knew  not 
what  feelings,  he  burst  forward  through  the 


182     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

veils  of  clinging  restraining  creeper  and  net- 
work of  plant  and  tree.  He  rushed  forward 
to  raise  her.  Then  stopped  short,  glaring, 
petrified,  knowledge  breaking  in  with  its  fear- 
ful pitiless  white  light  on  his  confused  and 
staggered  brain. 

There,  across  the  convulsed  and  bleeding 
body  of  his  murdered  wife,  he  met  the  up- 
braiding eyes  of  the  beast  of  prey. 


PLAYING  THE  GAME 

HE  sat  in  his  log  cabin  reading  her  letter 
with  knitted  brows.     It  was  such  a  dear 
sweet  letter,  so  kind  and  loving,  so  sympa- 
thetic in  all  its  wording,  that  it  seemed  strange 
and  incongruous  that  the  recipient  should  knit 
his  brows  over  it.     But  he  did,  and  when  he 
had  come  to  the  end,  he  sighed  heavily  and 
gazed  down  on  the  floor,  lost  in  apparently 
painful  thought.     He  was  a  picturesque  figure 
as  he  sat  there  leaning  against  his  rough  deal 
table  with  his  elbow  resting  on  it,  and  his  well- 
shaped,  bright,  golden-brown  head  supported 
on  his  hand.     He  was  tall,  and  his  form  had  all 
that  lean  hard  grace  which  comes  from  great 
strength  and  constant  work,  incessant,  varied, 
and  not  of  the  hardest  kind.    Dressed  as  he 
was  in  long  riding  boots,  blue  jean  trousers  and 
shirt,  leather  belt  round  his  slight  and  flexible 
waist,  he  looked  a  perfect  figure  to  sketch  or 
to  paint  or  to  weave  a  romance  round.     His 

163 


184     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

soft  wide-brimmed  grey  felt  hat,  turned  up  at 
one  side,  itself  suggestive  of  poetry,  fiction,  and 
heroic  adventure,  lay  beside  him  on  the  table 
near  to  the  fateful  letter  in  the  neat  and  deli- 
cate female  hand. 

There  was  nothing  to  disturb  his  long  rev- 
erie. It  was  the  middle  of  an  Arizona  summer 
afternoon,  and  here  in  the  heart  of  the  glori- 
ous forest,  not  less  than  seventy-five  long  miles 
away  from  the  nearest  little  human  settlement 
and  post  office,  it  can  easily  be  imagined  that 
silence  deep  and  calm  as  the  still  water  in  a 
well,  reigned  supreme.  The  heat  was  great, 
but  the  quality  of  the  air,  four  thousand  feet 
above  sea  level,  was  so  pure,  thin,  light,  and 
dry,  that  it  had  no  depressing  nor  enervating 
effect.  It  had  still  all  the  exhilarating  power 
that  the  high  elevation  gave  it.  As  one  moved 
one  felt  neither  clammy  nor  oppressed.  There 
was  a  pleasant  feeling  of  heat  in  the  air,  such 
as  one  experiences  on  putting  the  hand  into  a 
heated  oven  at  home,  that  was  all. 

Great  bands  of  yellow  sunlight  striped  the 
floor  of  the  cabin ;  a  floor  of  perfect  cleanliness, 


PLAYING  THE  GAME        185 

made  of  neatly  fitted  boards  resting  upon  logs; 
the  one  wide  horizontal  window  stood  open; 
so  did  the  door,  and  both  showed  beyond  a  vista 
of  delicate  green.  Green,  green  was  every- 
where like  a  great  ocean  in  which  the  cabin 
floated  as  a  boat.  Greenness  and  silence  for 
seventy-five  miles  in  every  direction. 

Round  the  cabin  walls,  formed  of  log  lying 
upon  log,  with  moss  deftly  packed  into  the 
chinks  between,  hung  pots  and  pans  of  every 
size  and  description,  each  clean  and  polished 
as  a  jewel,  each  hanging  apparently  in  its 
place  on  its  own  appointed  nail,  each  and  every 
one  testifying  no  less  than  the  clean  steel  tools 
also  hanging  there,  and  the  bright  gaily  painted 
almanack  showing  the  day's  date,  to  the  indus- 
try and  love  of  order  of  the  owner. 

Indeed  for  anyone  lost  and  wandering  in 
the  endless  beauty  of  that  wondrous  forest  to 
stumble  upon  this  hut  and  to  be  entertained 
by  its  master,  Victor  Grey,  would  be  a  sur- 
prising and  pleasant  experience  he  would  not 
soon  forget. 

Log  cabins  are  very  generally  dirty  and  un- 


186     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

tidy  places,  their  occupants  often  rough  and 
disorderly,  however  hospital,  and  yet  to  a  trav- 
eller starving  for  food  and  wearied  to  death  of 
the  eternal  green  glades  for  ever  opening  be- 
fore him,  these  cabins  seem  havens  of  comfort 
and  relief,  and  this  one  of  Victor's,  with  its 
air  of  refined  peace,  its  note  of  order  and 
plenty,  combined  with  thrift  and  sobriety, 
would  seem  to  the  foot-sore  one,-a  magic  palace 
of  delight. 

Through  the  golden  stillness,  a  leaf  cracked 
faintly  under  a  light  step  outside. 

Victor  wheeled  round  in  his  chair,  and  then 
rose  as  he  saw  a  trim  young  figure  of  a  girl  in 
the  doorway. 

"I  came  to  bring  you  these  few  eggs,  Mr. 
Grey,"  she  said  softly,  stopping  on  the  thresh- 
old and  holding  out  a  little  basket  in  which 
half  a  dozen  clear  brown  hens'  eggs  were  nest- 
ling in  some  hay. 

"How  very  kind  of  you!  Do  come  in  a  mo- 
ment," he  answered,  and  put  a  chair  for  her 
beside  his  own. 

The  girl  came  in  with  a  shy  and  timid  but 


PLAYING  THE  GAME        187 

pleased  air.  From  their  looks  and  manners, 
from  the  tone  of  their  voices,  from  the  gentle- 
ness of  their  pleased  glances,  it  was  quite  ob- 
vious that  these  two  were  linked  together  by 
those  first  light  subtle  chains  of  love,  delicate 
as  the  jessamine  wreath  or  the  daisy  chain 
which  Xature  weaves  and  that  man  replaces 
later  by  ones  of  his  own,  more  substantial  but 
not  more  sweet. 

She  sat  down  and  faced  the  bright  radiance 
of  the  window :  her  cheeks  were  round  and  very 
soft  and  the  pale  pink  colour  of  the  manzanita 
which  grew  in  its  beautiful  wild  clumps,  bear- 
ing its  Dresden-china-like  flowers  just  outside 
his  door;  her  hair  gathered  back  from  her  white 
forehead  and  tied  with  a  blue  ribbon,  was  of 
the  deep  rich  tone  of  the  chestnut,  and  golden 
lights  sparkled  all  over  it  and  in  amongst  its 
thick  curling  waves.  Her  eyes  were  large  and 
dark,  and  looked  out  from  dark  arching  brows 
as  do  those  of  the  deer  not  yet  accustomed 
to  the  brutality  of  man,  with  a  tender  enquiring 
innocence,  confidence  and  awe  mingling  in  their 
velvet  depths.  As  she  sat  on  the  oak  chair,  her 


188     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

form  not  heavy,  but  well  developed,  her  limbs 
round,  yet  slight,  her  head  well  carried,  her 
whole  pose  easy,  yet  alert,  she  conveyed  the 
impression  of  great  strength,  great  capacity  for 
work,  great  fitness  to  bear  with  and  go  through 
successfully  a  hard  and  trying  existence.  The 
man  looked  down  upon  her  with  a  tender  gaze, 
it  was  a  sort  'of  enveloping  glance  that  seemed 
to  take  in  everything  about  her :  her  youth,  her 
health,  her  vigour,  her  natural  sunlit  beauty, 
her  coarse  and  simple,  yet  perfectly  clean  and 
tidy  blue  jean  clothing. 

Then  he  turned  his  eyes  to  the  window,  but 
not  until  with  a  swift  passing  scrutiny  they 
had  rested  for  a  second  on  a  framed  photograph 
standing  on  his  rude  mantel-shelf.  The  face 
in  it  presented  a  striking  contrast  to  the  girl's 
in  the  oak  chair.  The  pictured  face  was  the 
most  exquisite  and  ethereal  one  could  well 
imagine,  with  that  fairness  and  delicacy  that 
the  snowdrop  and  the  anemone  show,  trembling 
on  their  stalk.  It  was  the  face,  moreover,  of 
one  who  has  never  known  and  could  not  stand 
manual  work,  and  whose  life  was  the  intellec- 


PLAYING  THE  GAME        189 

tual  one  of  cities.  Still  more  the  photo  re- 
vealed, for  it  showed  a  costly  dress  of  lace  and 
a  jewelled  spray  in  the  beautiful  wealth  of 
golden  hair.  As  far  removed  from  each  other 
as  any  two  human  beings  could  be  in  this  world 
were  the  two  girls,  who,  at  that  moment,  one 
on  the  painted  card,  one  in  her  living  self,  sat 
in  Victor's  cabin, 

He  took  the  chair  beside  her,  and  closed 
his  great  strong  hand  over  her  slim,  supple, 
brown  one. 

"May!  dear  little  May,"  he  said  softly. 

The  girl  said  nothing.  They  had  never 
called  each  other  by  their  Christian  names. 
He  had  never  spoken  a  word  of  love  to  her. 
She  had  felt  instinctively,  though  he  never 
talked  of  his  affairs,  that  the  face  in  the  frame 
was  the  cause. 

"I  love  you,  May,"  he  went  on  in  the  same 
soft  undertone,  which  had  a  great  seriousness 
in  it,  "and  you  love  me,  I  know.  You  could 
not  have  been  sweet  and  dear  to  me  if  you  did 
not,  and  that  is  why  I  am  talking  to  you  like 
this  to-day.  I  am  going  away  to  England,  and 


190     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

I  want  to  tell  you  the  truth  before  I  go." 

She  looked  up.  "Why  are  you  going?"  she 
asked. 

"I  am  going  to  get  married  and  bring  my 
wife  out  here  with  me." 

"Ah!"  he  felt  a  shiver  run  through  her. 
She  sat  back  in  the  chair,  drawn  together  sud- 
denly, almost  as  if  .someone  had  pushed  a  dag- 
ger into  her  breast. 

"All  this  time,"  he  went  on,  "I  have  been 
engaged,  and  that  has  been  why  I  have  never 
spoken  of  love  to  you,  and  never  come  to  your 
home  as  your  father  wished.  One  cannot  al- 
together help  one's  feelings  and  thoughts,  but 
one  can  command  one's  words  and  actions. 
You  have  guessed  all  this?" 

"Yes,"  the  girl  whispered  back,  "the  photo- 
graph?" 

The  man  nodded. 

"I  am  engaged  to  her.  I  fell  very  much  in 
love  with  her  three  years  ago,  when  she  passed 
through  here  with  a  hunting  party.  That 
was  before  you  and  four  father  came  to  the 
clearing." 


PLAYING  THE  GAME        191 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  looking  away  from 
the  girl,  out  through  the  window  into  its  world 
of  mysterious  green  beyond.  He  was  recalling 
a  vision  of  a  lovely  face  that  had  looked  in 
through  that  frame  three  years  ago,  of  a  sil- 
very voice  with  its  sweet  delicate  tones  that  had 
called  to  him  for  directions  before  its  owner  had 
swept  onwards  by  the  broad  turfy  track  under 
the  maze  of  interlacing  boughs,  which  led  to 
the  strangers'  camp,  a  little  distance  from  his 
cabin. 

"Do  you  love  her  still?'*  came  the  girl's 
pained  voice  at  his  side. 

"Yes,  I  think  I  do,"  he  answered.  "But, 
oh!  May,  I  see  now  the  horrible  mistake  of  it 
all.  I  love  her,  in  a  way,  yes,  as  you  and  I, 
May,  love  the  gorgeous  planets  that  flash  above 
us,  over  the  corral  at  night.  When  she  came 
here  she  threw  enchantment  over  me.  She  was 
like  a  spirit  dropped  from  another  world.  I 
looked  upon  her  as  something  too  wonderful  to 
touch,  almost  to  look  upon,  and  then  she  loved 
me.  Why,  I  can't  think." 

May  looked  up  at  him,  her  eyes  resting 


192 

adoringly  on  his  bright  head,  his  noble  features, 
the  fine  clear  whiteness  of  his  skin  that  no  ex- 
posure could  coarsen,  and  did  not  share  his 
wonder  in  the  least. 

"Of  course  she  would  fall  in  love  with  you," 
she  retorted  with  an  indignant  little  frown. 

"I  don't  know  why  she  should,"  he  rejoined 
simply,  "her  own  life  was  so  brilliant,  she  had 
everything  in  it,  but  I  felt  she  loved  me,  and 
when  I  asked  her  if  she  would  marry  me  and 
accept  this  life,  she  said  'Yes,'  because  she 
loved  me  though  she  would  hate  the  life,  and 
I  was  so  mad  and  foolish,  I  persisted  in  it  all, 
and  when  she  went  away  we  made  a  definite 
solemn  promise  to  each  other  that  no  distance, 
no  length  of  time,  only  death  should  divide 
us." 

His  voice  sank.  There  was  silence.  The 
girl  beside  him  sat  still,  numb  and  cold  and 
sad,  sick  with  apprehension  and  despair. 

She  had  always  loved  him.  Her  heart  had 
flown  out  to  him,  in  spite  of  her  strenuous  ef- 
forts to  restrain  it,  at  their  very  first  meeting 


PLAYING  THE  GAME        193 

when  she  and  her  father  had  settled  in  the 
clearing  three  miles  away,  and  he  had  come  over 
and  generously  helped  them  with  his  own  time 
and  labour  in  setting  up  their  simple  house. 
But  on  her  first  visit  to  his  cabin,  when  she  had 
seen  the  lovely  picture  on  his  mantel-piece, 
she  had  determined  to  let  no  sign  of  love  es- 
cape her.  She  had  nobly  tried  to  throw  out 
of  her  heart  the  love  that  strove  to  take  pos- 
session of  it.  But  even  so,  he  had  guessed 
...  he  had  known. 

"Well,  but  ...  but  ...  if  you  love  her 
still,  it's  all  right?"  she  ventured  to  say  at  last, 
a  bitterness  she  could  not  help  in  her  tone. 

"I  loved  her  then,  as  a  sort  of  enchantment, 
and  I  love  her  still  as  a  glorious  memory  of  that 
time,  but  in  all  these  three  years,  you  can  un- 
derstand, the  magic  has  faded,  and  then,  I  see 
the  fatal  folly  of  it.  She  can  do  nothing.  She 
has  always  been  rich,  waited  on,  accustomed  to 
pleasure,  to  the  gay  brilliance  of  the  cities. 
What  will  she  do  here?  where  one  must  work, 
everyone  must  work  hard  all  day,  where  there 


194     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

is  nothing  but  just  mere  existence,  the  getting 
and  preparing  of  food,  eating  and  working 
and  sleeping.  She  will  be  miserable  here  .  .  . 
grow  to  hate  me  as  well  as  the  life." 

"I  expect  she'll  learn  to  do  things.  She'll 
have  to,"  remarked  the  girl  sturdily,  with  a 
vicious  little  snap  in  her  voice. 

She  knew  what  she  could  do,  cook  and  bake 
and  sew,  wash  and  mangle,  scrub  and  clean; 
cut  wood  and  chop  and  saw,  milk  cows  and 
harness  horses,  rise  at  sun-up  and  work  till 
dark,  and  never  know  an  ache  or  a  pain  nor  a 
feeling  of  fatigue.  She  knew  how  perfectly 
happy  she  would  be  sharing  this  existence  with 
him;  his  log  cabin  would  be  a  palace  to  her,  in 
which  there  were  but  light  and  joyous  tasks, 
and  she  had  no  patience  with  the  idea  of  this 
golden  fairy  who  could  wish  for  anything  bet- 
ter or  different. 

"Well,  there  it  is,"  he  went  on  after  a  pause. 
"I  have  given  my  word  of  honour  and  I  can't 
break  it.  I  have  hoped  at  times  that  she  might 
change  and  tire,  but  she  has  not.  She  is  true 
as  steel." 


PLAYING  THE  GAME        195 

"Why  don't  you  write  and  ask  her  to  release 
you,  say  you  have  changed?"  broke  in  the  girl 
eagerly,  a  great  flame  suddenly  mounting  in 
her  dark  brown  eyes.  "If  you  really  have," 
she  added  a  little  petulantly. 

"Darling,"  said  the  man  suddenly,  putting 
his  arm  round  her  waist,  "you  know  I  have. 
You  know  I  love  only  you  now,  and  I  see  we 
are  so  suited.  I  know  I  could  make  you 
happy.  I  love  reality  in  you.  I  only  love  a 
vision,  a  dream  in  her,  but  don't  you  see  I  can't 
ask  her.  I  know  she  would  release  me  in  a 
minute,  I  know  she  would  hate  and  scorn  to  tie 
any  man  to  her  against  his  will.  She  is  hon- 
our and  greatness  itself.  She  would  do  it. 
She  would  cable  me  that  I  was  free,  but  if  she 
should  not  wish  it,  if  she  really  loves  me  still,  if 
she  should  be  very  unhappy !  just  think !  How 
can  I  withdraw  my  word  if  she  might  suffer  by 
it.  Only  a  cad  and  a  brute  could  do  it." 

"Well,  I  know  some  men  just  go  away  and 
marry  someone  else  and  never  ask  for  release 
or  even  tell  the  girl  they're  engaged  to.  They 
just  leave  her  to  find  it  out." 


196     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

An  indignant  flush  swept  across  the  fine  face 
of  the  ranchman. 

"She  would  forgive  me,  I  know,  even  if 
I  did  that,  but  she  would  think  me  the  most 
contemptible  hound  that  ever  lived.  How 
could  she  help  it?  And  I  know  I'd  blow  my 
brains  out  rather  than  so  degrade  myself. 
No,  May,  my  family  is  an  old  one,  and  we've 
never  lost  our  honour.  Noblesse  oblige" 

"What's  that  you  said  last?"  said  the  girl, 
sharply  looking  up  at  him.  She  saw  for  the 
moment  his  eyes  and  thoughts  were  far 
away. 

He  started.  "Eh?  Oh,  well,  freely  trans- 
lated it  means  playing  the  game." 

"I  don't  understand  now,"  May  returned 
pettishly,  "what  game  ?" 

"The  game  of  life.  Well,  it  means  that  if 
you  value  your  self-respect  you  have  go't  to 
act  in  a  certain  way;  that's  all.  You  can't 
cheat  and  lie.  Common  worthless  people  can 
and  do  because  they  don't  know  any  better." 

There  was  a  -long  tense  silence.  At  last 
the  girl  broke  it. 


PLAYING  THE  GAME        197 

"Then  it  is  to  be  good-bye  for  ever?"  she 
said  in  a  timid  voice,  her  lip  quivering. 

He  turned  and  took  her  wholly  into  his  arms, 
and  she  laid  her  head  'down  on  his  shoulder, 
crying  passionately. 

"Darling  little  May,  yes,  it  must  be.     Your 
father  was  talking  of  going  away,  right  out  of 
these  parts ;  you  will  go  with  him,  go  and  for- 
get me.     Perhaps  it  would  have  been  better  if 
we  had  not  talked  like  this,  but  somehow  I 
thought  you  would  rather  know  just  what  I 
felt.     And  we  could  not  help  each  other  seeing 
how  we  loved.     Dear  little  May,  don't  cry  so! 
You  are  so  young,  only  sixteen,  you  will  find 
someone  who  is  free,  and  love  him  much  more 
than  me  and  be  ever  so  happy,  I  know  you 
will."     He  stroked  the  soft  mass  of  glinting 
hair  that  lay  on  her  shoulders,  and  held  her  to 
him  very  gently,  and  she  lay  in  his  arms  and 
cried  and  cried,  till  from  fatigue,  she  could 
cry  no  more.     He  kissed  her  many  times  on 
her  white  soft  brow  and  on  her  chestnut  curls, 
feeling  in  those  moments  that  duty  was  very 
bitter. 


198     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

The  sun  sank  to  a  crimson  glory  in  the  West, 
and  the  whole  forest  was  lit  up  with  a  flood  of 
red  and  gold  as  they  left  the  cabin  together, 
and  almost  in  silence,  and  with  slow  feet  and 
heavy  hearts,  they  walked  through  the  fairy 
glades  back  to  her  father's  place. 

•          •••••• 

Four  thousand  miles  away  on  the  same  after- 
noon in  one  of  the  drawing-rooms  of  Grosvenor 
Square,  two  girls  sat  talking  across  the  silver 
and  Dresden  china  of  their  little  tea-table. 

"I  feel  sometimes  as  if  I  couldn't  do  it,  and 
yet  I  know  I  must.  I  can't  write  and  say  I 
won't  come  after  all  this  time,  and  perhaps 
break  his  heart."  The  speaker  lay  back  in  her 
chair  as  if  exhausted  by  some  mental  struggle. 
One  arm  in  its  exquisite  embroidered  muslin 
hung  over  the  side,  her  head  with  its  crown  of 
fair  burnished  hair  rested  wearily  on  the  silk 
cushion. 

"But  you  don't  know  it  would  break  his 
heart,"  remarked  the  other  girl  cheerfully,  se- 
lecting a  choice  De  Reszke  from  her  little  gold 
case.  "Why  don't  you  write  and  find  out?" 


PLAYING  THE  GAME        199 

"How  can  I?"  responded  the  other  reproach- 
fully, turning  to  her  companion  her  wide  blue 
eyes,  the  same  as  looked  from  the  framed  card 
on  Victor's  mantel-piece.  "The  moment  I 
even  faintly  hinted  I  wanted  my  freedom,  he 
would  release  me  at  once,  whatever  it  cost  him. 
You  don't  know,  Hilda,  how  .good  and  fine  he 
is.  If  it  killed  him,  he  would  never  complain 
or  reproach  me." 

Hilda  struck  a  match  with  an  emphasis  that 
somehow  conveyed  her  disbelief  in  Victor's 
early  demise.  She  only  said,  however,  after 
a  minute. 

"Well,  the  alternative  is  to  go  out  to  the 
ranch,  marry  the  divinely  good  man,  and  live 
happily  ever  after." 

"I  believe  I  could  if  it  wasn't  for  Bertie," 
the  other  murmured  disconsolately. 

"Yes,  there's  Bertie,"  resumed  Hilda,  smok- 
ing with  serene  contentment  and  half  closed 
eyes.  "Now,  Ada,  how  do  you  know  that 
Bertie's  heart  won't  break  just  as  much  as  the 
other  man's." 

"It's  altogether  different,"  Ada  answered. 


200    DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

"Bertie  has  his  regiment  and  lives  here  in  Lon- 
don where  there  are  such  heaps  of  distractions, 
you  know  life's  a  whirl.  Out  there  in  the  soli- 
tude and  silence  where  a  year  may  go  by  and 
you  never  hear  another  human  voice,  a  dream, 
a  hope,  becomes  so  magnified,  the  mind  must 
brood  upon,  cling  to  it,  and  if  that  dream  is 
dispelled,  there  is  nothing  to  take  its  place,  no 
possible  distractions  nor  solace.  Only  the 
same  dreary  round  of  work  in  absolute  soli- 
tude." 

"How  you  will  enjoy  it!"  returned  Hilda. 
"I  can  see  you  in  .blue  jean,  in  your  dreary 
round  of  work,  scrubbing,  washing,  cooking, 
sewing,  I  suppose.  Victor  out  all  day,  riding 
after  cattle,  you  in  absolute  solitude,  but  per- 
haps there'll  be  some  cheery  infants  clinging  to 
the  blue  jean  skirts,  as  you  with  your  hair 
tightly  screwed  back  and  your  sleeves  rolled  up, 
go  to  feed  the  little  black  pigs  crowding  round 
the  door!" 

"I  don't  mind  the  pigs,  they'll  be  company 
anyway!"  returned  Ada,  turning  her  golden 
head  listlessly  on  the  cushion.  "You  can  be  as 


PLAYING  THE  GAME        201 

sarcastic  as  you  like,  Hilda,  but  you  won't 
make  me  go  back  on  my  word  and  throw  over 
a  man  who  has  been  waiting  for  me  and  think- 
ing of  me  for  three  years.  However  I  hate 
it,  I've  got  to  go  through  with  it  now.  It's 
only  playing  the  game." 

Hilda  was  silent.  She  let  her  eyes  wander 
round  the  beautiful  room  so  full  of  all  the 
evidences  of  luxury  and  wealth,  of  the  best 
that  civilization  can  bring  to  the  human  beings. 
Her  gaze  rested  on  the  grand  piano  that  could 
give  out  such  a  glory  of  sound;  on  the  almost 
priceless  lilies  and  orchids,  marvels  of  bloom 
and  colour,  on  the  tables;  on  the  silk  uphol- 
stered furniture  which  wooed  one  to  rest  in  its 
depths  of  softness  and  ease ;  on  the  form  of  her 
friend  clothed  simply  enough  but  in  fabrics  so 
light  and  soft  that  they  were  hardly  felt. 

Then  as  her  reflective  gaze  swept  round  this 
home  of  beauty  and  ease,  it  caught  the  large 
picture  hanging  on  the  wall  behind  Ada's  head. 
The  portrait  of  one  of  her  ancestors  who  had 
cheerfully  laid  down  his  life  for  his  king  in  the 
Great  Rebellion,  and  for  five  hundred  years 


202     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

not  one  of  Ada's  noble  line  had  failed  when 
duty  called  him,  or  withdrawn  his  plighted 
word ;  and  neither  would  this  girl  disgrace  her 
line  she  knew.  Though  she  looked  so  fragile, 
and  had  been  brought  up  in  the  softest  luxury 
and  ease,  she  was  ready  to  go  forward  and  ac- 
cept the  fate  she  had  made  for  herself,  to  face 
hardship  and  die  under  it  rather  than  speak  one 
word  which  would  have  brought  her  release,  be- 
cause that  one  word  seemed  to  her  to  bring 
dishonour  too.  And  Hilda  quite  understood: 
in  spite  of  her  sarcasm  and  her  teasing  and  her 
worldly  wisdom,  she  understood. 

She  rose  and  went  over  to  Ada's  chair.  She 
had  thrown  away  her  cigarette  and  was  but- 
toning her  glove. 

"Well,  dear,  you  said  Bertie  was  to  come  at 
five,  so  I  will  go  now.  You  would  like  to  see 
him  by  yourself  for  the  last  time.  When  did 
you  say  Victor  was  coming  over?" 

"He  will  arrive  in  about  three  weeks." 

"Then  you'll  marry  and  go  out  with  him?" 

"I  suppose  so." 

Her  face  was  very  white,  her  eyes  were 


PLAYING  THE  GAME        203 

closed.  Then  suddenly  she  opened  them  and 
fixed  them  in  a  horrified  clinging  gaze  on  her 
friend's  face. 

"Oh!  Hilda,  it's  dreadful!  Not  the  man, 
Victor's  all  right.  When  you  meet  him,  you'll 
see  better  how  it's  all  happened,  but  the  life, 
that  awful  ranch  life,  with  never  a  note  of 
music  in  it  nor  an  intellectual  idea!  The 
monotony,  the  loneliness,  the  sordid  incessant 
work!  Work  writh  no  attainment  in  it,  work 
that  is  no  use,  carries  you  nowhere,  has  no  end ! 
You  work  one  day  that  you  may  exist  to  work 
the  next." 

"I  know.  It's  frightful.  I  wish  to  heaven 
you  had  not  bound  yourself  to  the  wretched 
man.  He  can't  leave  his  old  farm  or  what- 
ever it  is,  I  suppose?" 

Ada  shook  her  head. 

"Everything  he  has,  all  his  capital  is  in  it, 
and  I  haven't  much  of  my  own,  you  know,  and 
he  wouldn't  live  on  my  money  if  I  had." 

"Wretched  business!  but  if  you  love  him,  it 
mayn't  be  as  bad  as  you  think." 

"I  don't— not  now.     I  love  Bertie." 


204     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

"Well  really  ...  I  almost  think  .  .  ." 

The  other  girl  sprang  up. 

"Now  you're  going  to  advise  me  again  to 
break  my  word !  It's  no  good,  Hilda !  That 
would  be  worse  than  the  other  thing." 

Hilda  looked  at  her  and  gave  a  little  shrug 
of  her  shoulders. 

"Well,  so-long,  dear.  You'll  be  at  the  Op- 
era to-night?" 

"Yes.     I  won't  have  many  more  chances !" 

Hilda  went  out,  and  going  down  the  stairs, 
she  just  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  handsome  head 
of  Captain  Herbert  Dennis,  as  the  noiseless 
lift  glided  up  past  her  to  the  drawing-room. 

Ada  was  standing  with  her  head  bent  down 
and  her  forehead  resting  on  the  mantel-piece 
when  the  young  officer  came  in.  She  straight- 
ened herself  immediately,  and  went  forward 
with  hand  outstretched  and  a  little  smile. 
She  belonged  to  the  rank  where  everything,  the 
deepest  wounds,  the  most  bitter  enmity,  the 
greatest  agony,  death  itself,  is  met  with  that 
brave  and  charming  smile. 

"I  am  so  glad  you  wanted  to  see  me  before 


PLAYING  THE  GAME        205 

I  started  for  Egypt,"  he  said,  clasping  and 
holding  her  hand.  "Your  telephone  message 
this  morning  bucked  me  up  tremendously." 

"I  ...  I  ...  felt  I  wanted  to  see  you 
once  more." 

There  was  silence.  The  young  man  looked 
at  her  steadily.  There  was  a  great  whiteness 
and  a  great  pain  in  her  face,  the  smile  had  died 
away.  Then  he  came  very  close  to  her  and 
took  her  hand  again. 

"Ada!  dearest!  Are  you  sorry  I'm  going?" 
"I  ought  not  to  be  sorry.  I  am  going  to  be 
married  very  soon,  and  going  away  myself  to 
Arizona."  She  hurried  the  words  out  and  tried 
to  turn  away  and  withdraw  her  hand,  but  he 
would  not  let  her. 

"Yes,  I  knew  you  were  engaged,  and  that's 
why  I've  never  told  you,  but  you  knew,  you 
guessed,  didn't  you,  how  I  love  you.  Oh! 
Ada,  I'd  give  up  my  life  if  you  could  come 
with  me  now;  is  it  possible?  Do  you  love  me? 
Tell  me,  you  must  tell  me!"  He  threw  his 
arms  round  her,  and  caught  her  chin  in  his 
hand,  turning  her  averted  face  up  to  his,  so  that 


206     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

he  could  look  down  into  her  eyes.  They  were 
full  of  desperate  tears,  but  in  their  swimming1 
depths  he  read  his  answer. 

"Come,  come,  come  with  me!"  he  whispered, 
kissing  her  cold  white  face  and  quivering  lips. 
"Don't  let  anything  come  between  us.  All 
this  time  I've  said  nothing  because  I  did  not 
know  if  you  cared,  but  I  loved  you  the  moment 
I  saw  you,  that  first  night  we  danced.  We'll 
be  married  directly  .  .  .  to-morrow  .  .  .  and 
go  to  Egypt  together." 

As  soon  as  she  could  she  struggled  out  of 
his  arms  and  sat  down  on  a  little  chair  near 
her,  covering  her  face  with  both  hands  and 
sobbing,  not  loudly,  but  as  if  her  whole  body 
would  break  to  pieces. 

He  sank  on  his  knees  by  the  chair  and  put 
his  arms  round  her. 

"Why  shouldn't  we?"  he  murmured. 

At  last  she  regained  her  voice.  She  sat  up 
and  looked  at  him. 

"Three  years  ago  I  promised  to  marry  this 
man  in  Arizona,  and  he  has  waited  all  that  time 


PLAYIXG  THE  GAME        207 

for  me.     Now  he  is  coming  over  for  me.     I 
can't  break  my  word,  can  I?" 

The  man  grew  very  pale,  too.  He  did  not 
answer,  and  Ada  went  on. 

"Suppose  it  was  your  case.  Suppose  you'd 
been  engaged  three  years,  and  the  girl  loved 
you  and  had  written  you  every  week,  would 
you  throw  her  over  just  because  you  had  met 
someone  else  you  loved  better?" 

Bertie  got  up  and  paced  up  and  down  the 
long  room  in  silence,  frowning. 

"Men  do,  and  girls  too,  every  day,"  he  mut- 
tered after  a  minute,  "but  somehow  I  think 
I'd  hate  myself  rather  if  I  did." 
"Well,  I  feel  just  the  same." 
There  was  another  long  silence.     The  girl 
sat  white  and  still  in  her  chair.     The  passion- 
ate weeping  and  feeling  of  rebellion  was  over. 
She  was  quiet  now.     She  knew  there  was  no 
way  out.     The  man  paced  restlessly  up  and 
down,  staring  at  the  carpet.     What  he  was 
feeling  was  this  great  truth  that  to  act  like  a 
coward  or  a  cad  you  have  got  to  be  one  all 


208     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

through.  For  the  naturally  noble  to  be  led 
into  a  dishonourable  act  for  any  reason  what- 
ever is  fatal.  Before  his  eyes  swam  a  picture 
of  a  fellow  officer  lying  dying  from  his  own 
revolver  shot,  in  their  tent  in  the  Soudan. 
This  man,  overcome  by  some  nervous  crisis  in 
a  skirmish  had  turned  and  fled  from  the  enemy, 
leaving  his  friends  in  the  lurch.  He  had  come 
back,  explained,  been  exonerated  by  them,  but 
that  night  he  had  shot  himself  in  his  tent.  His 
last  words  sounded  in  Bertie's  ears:  "It's  no 
good,  if  you  want  to  act  like  a  cad  you  must 
be  a  cad.  I  wasn't,  I'm  not,  so  good-bye,  old 
man." 

He  had  not  forgotten  that,  and  now  in  all 
the  stress  and  strain  of  his  passion,  in  the  whirl 
of  joy  that  swept  over  him  at  knowing  defi- 
nitely that  she  loved  him,  this  scene  and  those 
words  came  back  to  him  insistently,  and  the 
great  truth  that  it  is  better  to  die  than  to  live 
dishonoured  stood  between  him  and  his  great 
desire.  He  felt,  instinctively,  there  would  be 
no  happiness  for  them  with  this  spectre  of  a 
broken  word  between  them. 


PLAYING  THE  GAME        209 

He  went  over  to  her  suddenly,  lifted  her 
wholly  off  the  chair  and  into  his  arms,  and 
pressed  her  hard  to  his  breast. 

"Good-bye,  girlie,  my  own  brave  dearest 
dear.  I'll  never  love  anybody  as  I  love 
you.  I'll  think  of  you  all  my  life.  Good- 
bye." 

Then  he  was  gone.  She  made  no  effort  to 
speak,  to  return  his  caress.  She  was  numb, 
sinking  down  slowly  through  an  icy  well  of 
despair  to  which  there  seemed  no  end. 

About  two  months  later,  on  a  night  splendid 
with  stars  and  glittering  with  frost,  a  wagon 
with  two  horses  and  containing  two  occupants 
was  rolling  steadily  along  the  red  road  that 
runs  from  Flagstaff  to  Phoenix,  passing 
through  hundreds  of  miles  of  glorious  forest 
land.  And  about  this  Arizona  forest  there  is 
nothing  of  deadliness,  nor  terror,  nor  gloom, 
such  as  is  hid  in  many  a  tropical  forest.  It  is 
full  of  sweet-scented  sunshine  and  light  air. 
The  trees  stand  apart  so  that  the  laughing  blue 
overhead  is  rarely  out  of  one's  sight.  The  soil 


210     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

is  light  and  dry  and  fine,  there  are  no  tangled 
creepers  lying  in  wait  for  the  foot ;  the  under- 
growth is  simply  great  bushes  of  the  manzan- 
ita,  a  lovely  flowering  shrub,  and  clumps  of 
the  wild  azalea.  There  are  no  swamps,  no 
treacherous  marshy  land,  no  layers  of  rotting 
vegetation,  nothing  to  depress  the  mind  or  poi- 
son the  blood.  The  air  circulates  freely  be- 
tween golden  cedar  and  lofty  pine,  spreading 
beech  and  oak  and  giant  red-wood  tree. 
Laughing  and  gushing  streamlets,  sparkling 
in  their  gravel  bed,  flow  through  it.  Bright 
blue  jays  scream  and  chatter  overhead.  There 
are  open  sunny  spaces.  The  whole  breath  of 
the  forest  is  life  and  health,  the  whole  spirit  of 
it  gaiety  and  joy.  The  bright  clear  air 
sparkles  like  a  yellow  diamond  through  the 
golden  days,  air  so  fine  and  dry  that  nothing 
seems  to  corrupt  in  it,  hardly  to  decay,  and  at 
night  when  the  temperature  sinks  suddenly 
from  seventy-five  degrees  to  thirty-two  de- 
grees, and  the  brooks  coat  quickly  over  with 
ice,  the  breeze  comes  to  one's  lips  bringing  the 
exhilaration  of  ice  cool  wine.  The  wagon 


PLAYIXG  THE  GAME        211 

rolled  on  easily,  the  sound  of  its  wheels  distinct 
on  the  frosted  road,  past  the  little  clearing- 
where  for  a  short  time  a  house  had  been,  past 
the  old  cattle  corral  where  Victor  had  formerly 
penned  his  cattle  at  the  round-up,  through  a 
seemingly  endless  avenue  of  enormous  firs,  and 
then  under  the  fire  and  flash  and  radiance  of 
the  stars,  pulled  up  at  Victor's  cabin.  He 
sprang  to  the  ground. 

"Here  we  are  at  last.  I  expect  you're  tired 
to  death?"  he  said,  pulling  back  the  canvas  flap 
and  disclosing  Ada  sitting  inside,  wrapped  in 
her  long  fur  cloak. 

"Not  a  bit,"  came  her  clear,  dainty  voice. 
"I've  enjoyed  every  bit  of  it !  What  a  wonder 
this  forest  is!  It  strikes  me  as  more  beautiful 
than  ever." 

Victor  did  not  reply:  he  was  busy  with  straps 
and  flaps,  making  a  way  for  her  to  descend, 
but  a  little  flush  of  pride  burnt  on  his  cheek. 
He  loved  this  land  and  home  he  had  chosen; 
loved  to  hear  it  admired.  He  lifted  her  down 
gently,  and  then  turned  to  unfasten  the  door. 
It  stood  ajar.  Victor  pushed  it  open  hur- 


212     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

riedly,  and  an  exclamation  of  dismay,  of  grief, 
broke  from  him.  Ada  went  to  his  side. 

"What  is  it?" 

"Some  boys  have  been  along  and  broken  in. 
I  expect  they  have  taken  everything,"  he  an- 
swered, getting  out  a  box  of  matches  and 
striking  a  light.  A  lamp  was  on  the  table  just 
at  his  hand.  He  lighted  and  turned  up  the 
wick.  The  light  drew  up  well  and  showed  a 
scene  of  desolation.  Revellers  had  been  there 
evidently,  supping,  drinking,  smoking,  and 
when  they  had  partaken  of  this  free  hospi- 
tality, had  cleared  out,  leaving  their  host  hours 
of  work  to  put  things  again  in  order. 

Victor  looked  round  the  place  with  a  groan. 
He  had  left  it  all  so  perfect,  knowing  his  bride 
was  returning  with  him.  Fire  laid  ready  to 
kindle;  wood  neatly  stacked  by  the  stove;  tins 
of  canned  food  with  tin  opener  ranged  on  the 
shelf;  floor  of  the  whiteness  of  marble;  lamps, 
tools,  utensils,  all  sparkling  with  brightness; 
kettle  and  pannikin  and  frying  pan  clean  and 
ready  to  fill  and  pop  on  the  fire.  In  such  a 
climate  as  this  where  there  is  no  damp,  dust, 


PLAYING  THE  GAME        213 

rust,  mildew  or  moth  to  corrupt  and  spoil,  a 
cabin  will  t  remain  spotless  and  clean,  unat- 
tended to  for  many  months.  But  by  ill  chance, 
one  in  a  thousand,  some  of  the  boys  on  a  tear 
had  passed  by  and  camped  here,  that  was  evi- 
dent. 

Ada  stood  for  a  moment  in  the  centre  and 
stared  about  her,  not  recognising  the  place. 
Victor's  cabin  as  she  had  seen  it,  and  remem- 
bered it,  had  been  an  immaculate  picture  of 
order  and  peace.  This  place  was  filthy,  the 
floor  stained  everywhere  with  tobacco  juice,  the 
stove  dirty  and  burnt  out ;  a  pile  of  unwashed 
tin  plates  and  cups  thrown  down  beside  it. 
Cases  of  provisions  had  been  dragged  out  of 
the  orderly  cupboards  against  the  wall,  broken 
open,  and  their  contents  hurriedly  gone 
through,  and  much  of  it  left  strewn  on  the 
floor.  The  table  was  covered  with  a  litter  of 
dirty  plates  and  knives  and  greasy  paper.  In 
the  middle  lay  a  leaf  torn  from  a  pocket  book. 
on  which  were  scrawled  a  few  words.  Victor 
picked  it  up  and  read :  "Thanks  for  a  preciou  s 
good  time,  old  boy.  Will  give  you  the  same  if 


DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

you're  lost  round  Tiller's  ranch  on  the  burnt 
oak  trail.  Two  of  the  boys." 

Victor  put  it  down  with  an  exclamation  of 
angry  disgust. 

"Never  mind,  Vic,"  Ada  said.  "We  can  put 
it  all  straight  in  no  time.  I'll  light  the  fire 
while  you  look  after  the  horses.  They  must 
be  cold  out  there." 

It  was  cold.  The  liquid  in  a  glass  on  the 
table  was  frozen  hard. 

"Can  you  really?"  he  answered,  looking  at 
her  doubtfully.  A  wonderfully  beautiful  and 
regal  figure  she  looked  standing  there  with  her 
soft  plumed  hat  nearly  touching  the  rafters, 
and  the  fur  of  her  costly  coat  shining  in  the 
lamplight. 

"Of  course.  I  suppose  it's  the  custom  of 
the  country  to  break  into  your  neighbour's  hut 
for  anything  you  want  ?" 

"Yes,"  he  replied.  "We  all  do  it.  I  don't 
mind  that,  but  they  should  leave  things  straight 
and  clean  when  they  go." 

"They'd  never  seen  such  order  as  yours,  I 
expect,"  she  said,  laughing.  "They  would  not 


PLAYIXG  THE  GAME        215 

know  how  to  put  it  back,  or  perhaps  they  re- 
sented it." 

She  passed  into  the  other  room  to  lay  her 
cloak  down,  but  stopped  on  the  threshold  in 
dismay.  Here  the  confusion  and  disorder  was 
more  apparent  even  than  in  the  sitting-room. 
The  bed  had  evidently  been  lain  upon  by  some- 
one too  tired  or  too  drunk  to  remove  his  boots ; 
clothes  had  been  taken  out  of  cupboards  and 
thrown  about.  The  jug  on  the  washing  stand 
had  been  filled  and  left  with  water  in  it,  which, 
freezing,  had  broken  the  china  to  pieces ;  in  the 
basin  stood  dirty  frozen  water;  on  the  towels 
half- washed  hands  had  been  dried,  leaving  their 
imprint  on  them,  the  soap  was  black. 

Ada  said  nothing  however  to  Victor.  She 
hastily  hung  her  coat  on  a  hook  in  the  wall, 
and  then  returned,  closing  the  door  after  her. 
She  heard  him  outside  talking  to  the  horses  and 
pushing  the  wagon  into  its  place.  Very  quick 
and  light  in  her  movements,  she  went  down  on 
her  knees  before  the  stove  and  raked  it  clear 
of  all  the  ash.  She  had  never  seen  a  stove  like 
this  before,  and  never  laid  or  lighted  a  fire  in 


216     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

her  life,  but  she  had  all  that  general  intelligence 
which  belongs  to  a  well-developed  brain,  and 
all  the  grit  of  the  true  aristocrat  who  is  never 
seen  to  better  advantage  than  when  plunged 
suddenly  into  novel  and  trying  situations. 
The  stove  was  cleaned  and  the  paper  from  the 
table  put  in,  but  there  was  no  wood  anywhere. 
She  pulled  open  a  little  cupboard  by  the  stove. 
A  chopper  lay  there  amongst  some  chips,  all 
that  was  left  of  Victor's  neat  store.  She  took 
the  chopper  and  went  out.  There  were  some 
bigger  logs  still  untouched  in  the  lean-to  out- 
side. With  great  care,  for  she  was  a  little 
afraid  of  the  chopper,  and  there  was  only  star- 
light to  work  by,  she  chopped  up  one  of  the 
logs  and  brought  back  an  armful  of  wood  to 
the  cabin.  She  filled  the  stove  carefully,  and 
after  putting  the  match  to  it,  was  rewarded 
by  its  cheerful  crackling.  Then  she  peered 
into  the  large  iron  kettle;  its  lid  was  missing, 
and  a  little  stale  and  rusty  coloured  water  was 
frozen  at  the  bottom  of  it.  She  looked  round: 
where  was  the  water?  She  thought  she  had 
seen  a  stream  somewhere  near  the  cabin,  years 


PLAYING  THE  GAME        217 

ago,  but  she  did  not  remember  exactly.  She 
must  go  and  look.  She  went  out  with  the 
heavy  iron  kettle,  and  walked  round  the  hut. 
She  could  hear  Victor  still  moving  about  in 
the  stable  with  the  horses.  She  knew  he  would 
not  be  content  until  he  had  rubbed  them  down 
and  fed  them. 

The  starry  splendour  of  the  night  seemed  to 
speak  to  her,  give  her  great  pleasure,  and  in 
spite  of  the  icy  air  on  her  coatless  body,  and 
the  weight  of  the  two  gallon  kettle,  and  the 
need  for  speed,  she  could  not  help  pausing  and 
looking  up  to  it.  This  beauty  all  round  her, 
pressing  in  upon  her,  would  be  the  solace  and 
comfort  she  foresaw  of  her  distasteful  exist- 
ence. She  looked  up,  and  a  calm  seemed  to 
fall  upon  her,  a  joyous  calm.  Then  she  has- 
tened on.  In  the  summer  the  streams  are  easy 
to  find,  their  sweet  chatter  and  light  trickling 
laughter  as  they  run  can  be  heard  long  before 
the  banks  are  reached,  and  lead  one  to  them, 
but  now,  in  winter,  frozen  over  and  asleep,  they 
make  no  sign.  She  went  all  round  the  cabin; 
then  at  a  little  distance  in  the  starlight,  to  which 


218     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

her  eyes  were  growing  accustomed,  she  made 
out  a  long  line"  of  white  through  the  trees,  and 
ran  towards  it. 

When  she  reached  the  edge,  she  saw  it  was 
no  easy  task  to  fill  the  kettle.  She  wished  she 
had  brought  something  as  a  dipper.  There  it 
lay  beneath  her,  the  stream,  solidly  covered 
with  ice.  The  bank  was  only  a  few  feet  high, 
but  very  steep,  frozen  also,  glistening  and  hard. 

She  knelt  down,  and  with  the  kettle  at  arm's 
length  she  could  touch  the  ice.  It  broke  after 
many  blows :  she  drew  the  kettle  up  with  a  little 
water  in  and  washed  it  out  as  well  as  s*he  could. 
It  was  cold  with  freezing  ground  and  air  and 
water,  but  she  seemed  literally  -burning  with 
anxiety  to  do  the  work  and  do  it  well.  With 
soft  slim  fingers  and  a  dry  leaf,  she  scrubbed 
out  the  kettle,  rinsed  it,  and  then  started  to 
fill  it.  The  stream  was  running  rapidly  be- 
neath the  ice,  and  showed  clear  and  dark  with 
the  stars  mirrored  in  it.  The  kettle  filled  as 
she  sank  it  into  the  well  she  had  made,  but  when 
she  attempted  to  pull  it  up  to  her  level  on  the 
bank,  she  found  two  gallons  of  water  hard  to 


PLAYING  THE  GAME        219 

handle ;  as  it  swung  up  towards  her  under  her 
persistent  effort,  the  edge  of  the  bank  on  which 
she  was  kneeling  gave  way,  and  she  fell  side- 
ways down  into  the  icy  water.  The  shock  and 
the  cold  almost  took  her  breath  away,  but  she 
gave  no  sound,  only  clutched  on  to  the  kettle 
more  tightly  still,  refilled  it,  and  with  it  scram- 
bled up  the  broken  side  of  the  bank.  Her  feet 
and  clothes  were  wet,  but  she  was  unhurt,  and 
getting  up  instantly,  she  ran  like  the  wind  back 
to  the  cabin. 

Victor  was  still  away.  She  set  the  kettle  on 
the  stove,  found  the  lid  in  the  litter  on  the 
table,  put  it  on,  and  then  proceeded  to  clear  up. 
Moving  very  swiftly,  and  with  her  quick  brain 
at  work  all  the  time,  she  soon  had  made  great 
progress,  and  when  Victor  stood  on  the  thresh- 
old he  saw  something  like  comfort  again  re- 
stored. The  stove  was  well  alight,  the  kettle 
singing,  the  table  cleared,  and  two  clean  cups 
and  saucers  and  plates  set  out  upon  it.  He 
smiled,  and  a  feeling  of  surprise  came  over 
him.  Even  May  could  not  have  been  quicker 
or  done  better. 


220     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

She  made  no  remark  about  herself,  nor  spoke 
of  her  fall,  her  chilled  limbs,  or  damp  clothes. 
The  plain  serge  travelling  frock  she  wore 
showed  no  damage  in  the  dull  light  of  an  un- 
cleaned  lamp. 

"Where  do  you  keep  your  tea?"  she  asked 
brightly  as  the  kettle  boiled. 

"In  the  left  hand  corner  cupboard  if  they've 
left  us  any,"  he  answered.  He  sat  down  for 
a  moment  in  the  chair  she  had  cleared  for  him. 
He  suddenly  felt  very  tired,  nearly  forty  miles 
continuous  driving,  and  then  the  unharnessing 
and  rubbing  down  of  the  horses,  and  then  haul- 
ing in  and  stacking  up  in  order  all  their  lug- 
gage and  the  contents  of  the  wagon,  had  left 
him  glad  of  a  moment's  rest. 

Ada  went  to  the  cupboard  and  opened  it. 
There  were  many  things  in  it.  Victor's  more 
personal  belongings,  which  by  him  were  kept 
neatly  in  their  respective  places,  but  this  nook 
had  been  overhauled  by  the  marauders  and  left 
like  the  rest  of  the  place  in  confusion.  A 
work-box  with  stout  thread  and  buttons  and 
reels  in  it  jostled  against  a  writing-pad  and 


PLAYING  THE  GAME        221 

some  packets  of  envelopes,  a  bottle  of  ink  and 
a  roll  of  jean  stood  in  front  of  the  tea-can. 
Ada  lifted  them  out,  then  the  can;  as  she  did  so 
a  photograph  that  had  been  hastily  pushed  in 
behind  it  fell  forward,  and  she  picked  it  up. 
In  a  large  writing  that  she  could  not  help  read- 
ing in  the  first  glance,  was  written:     "With 
love  from  your  little  May.     Good-bye,  darl- 
ing," and  the  dates  of  the  month  and  year  fol- 
lowed, the  date  of  Victor's  last  letter  to  herself 
saying  he  was  coming  home.     Mechanically 
she  turned  it  over,  and  the  sixteen-year-old  face 
of  May  looked  up  at  her  from  the  card.     Obey- 
ing the  physical  feeling  which  made  her  limbs 
seem  to  sink  under  her,  she  sat  down  on  the 
floor  with  the  card  in  one  hand  and  the  tea-can 
in  the  other.     Only  a  word  is  necessary,  a  look, 
a  sigh  to  those  whose  brains  are  keen,  and  a 
whole  history  is  revealed.     Ada,  crushed  and 
silent,  sitting  on  the  floor,  forgot  Victor,  forgot 
the  cabin,  forgot  everything  near  her.     With  a 
rebound,  rapid  and  violent,  her  mind  sprang 
back  to  an  image  she  had  resolutely  forced 
from  her  ever  since  her  marriage. 


222     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

She  was  in  Bertie's  arms ;  she  was  back  with 
him.  She  was  going  to  Egypt  to  the  life  she 
loved  of  brilliance,  of  change,  of  travel,  of  fun, 
of  adventure,  the  life  of  an  officer's  wife. 

The  kettle  boiled  so  furiously  and  began  to 
splutter  so  viciously  on  the  stove  that  Victor 
sprang  up  and  lifted  it  to  one  side. 

"Have  you  found  the  tea?"  he  called  out. 
Then  as  no  answer  came  he  looked  round  and 
saw  her  sitting  in  a  little  huddled  heap  before 
the  cupboard. 

"Why,  dear,  what's  the  matter?"  he  said  con- 
cernedly, going  over  to  her.  Then  he  saw:  the 
card  lay  in  her  lap:  her  eyes  were  fixed  on 
something  far  beyond  his  cabin  walls. 

"Oh,  darling,  I'm  sorry  you  should  have  seen 
that,"  he  said,  and  lifted  her  up  bodily  and 
brought  her  over  to  the  stove  and  set  her  in  his 
chair.  He  realised  instantly  that  to  her  fine 
perception  all  was  clear.  There  was  no  pos- 
sibility of  deception  or  excuse. 

"Give  it  to  me.     Let  me  tear  it  up." 

He  took  the  card  from  her  nerveless  hand 


PLAYIXG  THE  GAME        223 

and  tore  it  into  minute  pieces,  opened  the  door 
of  the  stove,  and  thrust  them  in. 

"Don't  think  of  it,"  he  said,  bending  over 
and  kissing  her.  "It's  all  over.  You  and  I 
have  set  our  feet  on  the  trail  now,  and  we  are 
going  to  travel  it  together." 

She  had  watched  him  tear  up  and  burn  the 
card  in  passive  silence.  She  accepted  his  caress 
passively,  almost  unconscious  of  it.  She  was 
stupefied  by  the  intensity  of  the  blow.  After 
a  minute  she  got  up  and  stood  beside  him. 
Never  had  she  seemed  so  lovely,  he  thought. 
It  was  the  magic  vision  that  had  looked  in  at 
his  window  and  thrown  enchantment  over  him 
three  years  before.  Her  face  was  white,  her 
eyes  strangely  dilated,  the  pale  gold  of  her 
silky  hair  beneath  her  little  travelling  hat 
gleamed  in  the  lamp  rays. 

"Tell  me,  Victor,"  she  said  after  a  minute, 
and  her  voice  was  quite  calm.  "Did  you  love 
that  girl  and  want  to  marry  her?" 

"I  did.  Yes,"  he  answered  simply.  There 
was  a  force  emanating  from  her  that  simply 


224     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

tore  the  straight  truth  from  him.  He  could 
not  hesitate,  nor  evade,  nor  prevaricate,  even 
had  he  wished  to. 

"Why  did  you  not  write  and  tell  me?" 

"Because  I  knew  you  would  have  released 
me  at  once,  and  I  thought  it  was  not  playing 
the  game  to  ask  you." 

"I  would  have  released  you  gladly"  The 
last  word  came  from  her  as  a  cry  of  physical 
pain,  and  it  startled  the  man  and  brought  a 
sudden  fear  with  it.  He  looked  at  her  quickly. 

"Did  you  want  to  be  free?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  a  thousand  times  yes !"  Her  tone  was 
so  bitter,  so  sharp  with  the  intensity  of  the  pain 
she  was  suffering,  it  seemed  to  strike  him  as  a 
blow. 

She  saw  the  red  colour  leap  into  his  face. 
Then  he  turned  and  sat  down  by  the  table  and 
put  his  head  in  his  hands.  "God  in  Heaven," 
it  was  a  sort  of  unconscious  groan  that  broke 
from  him.  Then  there  was  silence  in  the  freez- 
ing cabin  as  each  one  of  them  stared  into  the 
face  of  their  future. 

So  it  hadn't  been  necessary  after  all!  this 


PLAYING  THE  GAME        225 

great  sacrifice !  That  was  what  she  was  think- 
ing as  her  ice  cold  feet  seemed  to  freeze  to  the 
floor,  as  her  eyes  rested  on  the  cramped  space 
round  her,  as  her  ears  noted  the  deadly  stillness 
without,  the  silence  of  her  living  tomb.  So  he 
had  not  been  longing  for  her  but  hating  to  part 
with  that  little  girl  of  the  photo.  So  had  she 
sent  the  words  she  feared  would  hurt  him  so 
much  he  would  have  been  infinitely  rejoiced! 
Oh,  the  pain,  the  agony  of  it,  and  the  humilia- 
tion, that  deadly  wound  to  our  vanity  at  finding 
we  have  over-valued  self.  And  then  all  slipped 
from  her,  swept  away  by  the  tide  of  longing 
for  her  vanished  happiness.  As  in  a  vision  she 
saw  herself  in  Egypt.  It  was  a  ball  such  as  is 
held  there  nightly.  She  saw  herself  gliding 
with  light  steps  over  the  satin-like  floor,  the 
strain  of  music  lifting  her  soul  to  the  heights, 
as  the  notes  floated  on  the  warm  rose-scented 
air.  She  heard  the  laughter  and  the  comments 
on  her  beauty,  she  felt  the  soft  folds  of  her 
silken  dress;  then  she  was  in  the  gay  supper- 
room,  friendly  faces  laughed  round  her:  the 
lights  were  soft  and  many  coloured,  the  little 


226     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

table  by  the  flowers  was  before  her,  Bertie  was 
there;  his  eyes  smiled  his  admiration  as  he 
poured  into  her  delicate  crystal  glass  the  yellow 
sparkling  wine.  She  was  radiant,  happy,  ad- 
mired, beloved,  clothed  in  beautiful  things,  tak- 
ing part  in  an  exquisite  pageant  of  sunlighted 
beauty  and  love. 

And  she  had  given  this  all  up  for  nothing, 
for  a  man  who  didn't  want  her,  but  wanted 
somebody  else! 

Then  slowly  she  came  out  of  her  dream. 
The  wretched  constrained  little  interior,  the 
aching  cold,  the  stiffness  of  her  tired  limbs, 
the  image  of  the  man  sitting  by  the  table  with 
bowed  head,  became  realities  again.  He  had 
made  the  sacrifice  too:  there  was  an  infinite 
bitterness  in  that  thought,  but  the  bitterness 
even  had  a  soft  edge  to  it.  He  had  kept  faith 
as  she  had.  They  had  both  made  a  mistake, 
and  they  both  suffered,  but  they  had  kept  their 
honour,  the  only  thing  worth  keeping  after 
all,  the  only  thing  to  keep  fast  hold  of  in  this 
shifting,  swaying,  uncertain,  transient,  misty 


PLAYING  THE  GAME         227 

thing  we  know  as  life,  the  only  thing  that  mat- 
ters. 

She  moved  towards  him.  She  put  her  hand 
on  his  shoulder,  and  then  her  lips  to  his  ear. 

"Victor,  we  see  now  it  has  all  been  a  mis- 
take. But  we  did  it  for  the  best.  Perhaps 
we  each  over-valued  ourselves.  Anyway  we 
thought  we  were  playing  the  game,  and  all  we 
can  do  now  is  to  play  it  to  the  end.  I'm 
ready." 

He  raised  his  head  with  a  great  sob  and  drew 
her  into  his  arms.  As  their  wounded  hearts 
beat  one  against  the  other  with  throbs  of  dis- 
appointment, disillusionment,  bitterness  and 
pain,  some  happiness,  some  joy  and  pride  min- 
gled with  all  the  anguish.  Each  knew  the 
other  had  kept  faith  at  any  cost.  Each  heart 
knew  the  other  had  stood  the  test  and  been 
found  pure  gold. 


THE  BUTTERFLIES'  DANCE 

GOLDEN  silence  brooded  over  the  sum- 
mit of  the  Umbrail  Pass,  sunlight,  si- 
lence, and  infinite  peace  rested  there.  The 
heat  was  intense,  and  nowhere  was  the  slightest 
fleck  or  hint  of  shade.  From  the  golden  soil 
of  the  pass  to  the  deep,  brilliant,  unfathomable 
blue  of  the  sky  above,  there  was  nothing  but  a 
glory  of  all  pervading  glittering  light. 

Not  the  faintest  breeze  stirred  the  hot,  light 
air,  not  the  softest  little  whisper  of  sound  dis- 
turbed that  unutterable  silence;  not  the  rustle 
of  a  tree,  not  the  tinkle  of  a  brook,  not  the  note 
of  a  bird. 

There  are  no  trees,  brooks,  nor  birds  any- 
where within  many  miles,  yet  Beauty  has  her 
home  here,  and  Venus  her  attendants,  for  on 
the  ground  lies  a  magic  carpet  more  gorgeous 
than  any  from  Turkey  or  Bagdad;  a  carpet  of 
vivid  and  dazzling  circles  of  colour,  blue  and 
mauve  and  violet,  crimson,  scarlet  and  rose, 

228 


THE  BUTTERFLIES'  DANCE     229 

orange  and  amber  and  purple  and  yellow ;  none 
of  the  circles  run  into  each  other,  only  fit 
closely.  They  are  cushiony  to  the  touch  and 
intoxicating  to  the  scent,  for  they  are  flowers, 
stalkless,  leafless  flowers  growing  close  to,  or 
rather  flat  upon  the  earth,  compact  masses  of 
gloriously  coloured,  sweet  perfumed  bloom, 
and  over  this  marvel  of  vivid  colour  and  ex- 
quisite design  danced  and  floated  and  hovered, 
thousands  upon  thousands  up  to  uncounted 
millions  of  rainbow  hued  butterflies. 

Up  and  down,  up  and  down,  swayed  with- 
out ceasing  the  radiant  cloud,  as  the  butterflies, 
"set  to  partners,"  whirled  and  wheeled  and 
hovered,  fluttered  and  floated  and  sank  and 
rose  in  their  never-ending  dance. 

Oh,  those  butterflies  of  the  Umbrail  Pass, 
chosen  children  of  God  to  carry  a  message  of 
joy  to  the  eye  of  the  beholder!  Who  can  be 
sad  looking  at  them  dancing,  radiantly  clothed 
in  the  sun,  to  a  rhythm  of  their  own?  Little 
brown  wings  like  velvet,  striped  with  scarlet, 
large  blue  wings  like  silk  starred  with  two  dark 
blue  eyes,  lemon  coloured  wings  barred  with 


230     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

black,  orange  coloured  wings  tipped  with 
flame!  Some  were  deep  blue  with  delicate 
green  circles  on  their  wings,  others  were  or- 
ange embroidered  with  scarlet,  and  not  the 
least  lovely  were  those  absolutely  and  purely 
white  that  fluttered  like  falling  flakes  of  snow 
which  never  fell.  Then  there  were  clear  bright 
yellow  ones,  and  small  delicate  blue  ones  of  the 
most  heavenly  azure,  as  if  they  were  pieces  of 
the  dome  of  sky  itself:  and  each  was  perfect, 
in  the  zenith  of  its  beauty,  each  tiny  feather  was 
smooth,  unruffled,  each  brilliant  wing-tip  clean- 
cut  and  shapely.  There  had  been  no  rain  nor 
wind  to  roughen  their  glossy  gay  plumage. 
They  seemed  miraculous  in  their  finished  com- 
pleteness and  splendour,  such  butterflies  as 
might  float  over  the  Elysian  fields.  Some- 
times they  would  rise  altogether,  forming  a 
wonderful  spiral  of  whirling  colour,  then,  high 
up,  they  would  spread  out  fan-like,  flame  col- 
oured orange  and  gold  against  the  blue,  circle 
softly  over  the  brilliant  blooms  beneath  them, 
and  then  gently  flutter  together,  to  rise  in  their 
dazzling  column  upward  again. 


THE  BUTTERFLIES'  DANCE     231 

As  the  butterflies  danced  on  in  their  silent, 
beautiful,  mystic  dance,  symbolising  the  im- 
mortal hope  and  joy  of  the  world,  a  human 
being  toiled  wearily  up  the  broad  white  dust- 
laden  road  that  winds  between  the  flower- 
cushioned  slopes  to  the  top  of  the  pass.  It  was 
a  man,  tall  and  handsome,  one  of  Nature's 
favourites  on  whom  she  had  showered  her  rich- 
est gifts,  beauty  and  litheness  and  strength, 
grace  in  the  limbs,  rich  dark  colour  in  hair  and 
eye,  and  bright  intellect  behind  the  broad  fore- 
head. Yet  he  walked  heavily  as  one  in  chains, 
and  his  eyes  were  bent  on  the  blinding  road  in- 
stead of  on  the  glory  of  the  sunlit  scene. 

Count  Arese  d'Aledo,  owner  of  a  palace  in 
Rome  and  another  on  the  Arno,  with  horses 
and  jewels  and  other  earthly  toys,  courted  and 
feted  and  flattered,  was  sick  with  utter  misery 
and  desolation  of  soul,  while  the  butterflies, 
who  owned  nothing  but  their  painted  wings, 
floated  on  the  scented  crystal  air  in  an  ecstasy 
of  j  oy .  They  had  the  Empire  of  Freedom  and 
the  Sun. 

After  a  weary  climb,  long  because  made  with 


232     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

such  laboured  steps,  Arese  reached  the  sum- 
mit of  the  pass,  and  there  fell  rather  than  sat 
down  on  a  slab  of  rock  jutting  from  the  moun- 
tain side.  Under  the  rock  and  all  round  it 
nestled  the  pillows  of  Alpine  flowers,  brilliant 
pink  and  blue,  tiny  and  exquisite  blossoms  in 
miniature,  and  far  above  the  rock  stretched  the 
sky  of  dazzling  lapis  lazuli,  and  close  above  it 
hovered  the  radiant  cloud  of  dancing  shining 
wings. 

The  man,  blind  to  everything,  collapsed  upon 
the  rock  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 
Fatigue  ached  all  through  him.  Italians  do 
not  care  greatly  for  walking.  Arese  had  never 
gone  so  far  on  foot  in  his  life.  He  had  hardly 
ever  been  out  at  this  glorious  hour  of  noon,  the 
sun's  grand  reception  time  when  he  holds  full 
court,  before.  Arese  was  generally  in  bed  at 
noon.  Electric  and  moonlight  were  more  fa- 
miliar to  him  than  the  light  of  the  sun,  and 
the  heat  of  steam-pipes  and  charcoal  than  its 
heat.  Mountains,  flowers,  blue  sky,  and  the 
scorching  kiss  of  the  sun  were  practically  un- 
known to  him,  though  he  lived  in  a  land  of 


THE  BUTTERFLIES'  DANCE     233 

them.  The  cool  shaded  street  where  his  palace 
stood,  its  dark  richly  furnished  rooms,  the  gay 
crowded  lighted  gambling  halls,  the  dainty 
silk-shrouded  boudoirs  of  women,  these  were 
the  places  where  his  days  and  nights  were 
passed. 

Presently  pain  and  fatigue  subsided  some- 
what within  him,  and  he  raised  his  head  and 
looked  dazedly  about  him.     He  had  started  to 
walk  to  the  top  of  the  pass,  and  he  supposed 
he  had  done  so,  but  it  seemed  now  that  his  long 
weary  climb  had  brought  him  into  another 
world.     How   intensely   hot   it   was!   yet    it 
seemed  a  life-giving,  not  a  destructive  heat ;  all 
distress  was  dying  out  of  his  limbs;  the  pure 
clean  air  filling  his  lungs  seemed  pouring  en- 
ergy through  his  frame,  bracing  him.     He  be- 
gan to  know  that  he  was  hungry,  and  he  felt 
in  his  pocket  for  the  parcel  containing  his 
luncheon.     His  hand  touched  something  small 
and  cold,  and  he  drew  it  out  and  looked  at  it  in 
the  sunshine:  a  little  dark  blue  bottle  with  cor- 
rugated sides  and  a  red  label.     In  it  was  a  tiny 
quantity  of  prussic  acid,  which  is  one  of  the 


234     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

low,  dark,  easily  swinging  doors  in  the  beauti- 
ful walls  of  the  world  through  which  one  can 
step  swiftly  into  the  .  .  .  What?  which  lies 
outside.  Arese  gazed  at  it  with  frowning 
brows.  Down  there  in  the  dark  cities,  in  the 
shade  of  palaces  he  had  mortgaged,  surrounded 
by  erstwhile  smiling  friends  now  turned  into 
scowling  creditors,  stifled  by  debt,  and  deserted 
by  the  women  who  had  helped  to  lead  him  into 
it,  this  bottle  had  seemed  to  him  the  only  means 
of  rescue  and  of  help.  Now  on  the  top  of  this 
glorious  pass  with  its  masses  of  incense  breath- 
ing flowers,  its  laughing  sky,  its  golden  silence, 
and  its  troupes  of  painted  butterflies,  the  bottle 
looked  quite  different,  and  he  slipped  it  into  his 
breast  pocket  with  a  sigh  that  had  a  dismissive 
sound,  and  put  his  hand  again  into  his  side 
pocket. 

This  time  he  drew  out  a  large  flat  flask  of 
golden  Falernian  wine,  which  glowed  like  a 
topaz  in  the  sun.  "Ha!  ha!  this  is  better!"  he 
thought,  and  took  a  long  draught  from  it;  a 
draught  of  that  same  rich  wonderful  wine 
which  Horace  drank  of  old,  and  that  he  was 


THE  BUTTERFLIES'  DANCE     235 

accustomed  to  seal  up  in  cool  jars  in  his  cellar 
and  write  odes  about. 

Arese  drank  now  and  was  much  refreshed, 
and  attacked  with  good  appetite  his  roll  and 
meat  sandwiches,  and  after  every  crumb  had 
been  disposed  of,  he  drank  again,  and  then  sat 
gazing  reflectively  at  the  flask  and  its  contents 
sparkling  in  the  sun.  After  all,  why  leave  a 
world  in  such  a  hurry  which  had  in  it  old  Fa- 
lernian  such  as  that,  and  skies  so  blue  and  air 
so  keen  and  dry  and  sweet?  And  when  one 
was  young  with  every  limb  so  strong?  Those 
women  whose  desertion  had  gone  to  his  heart, 
why  mourn  for  them?  There  were  women  in 
every  corner  of  the  world  who  would  love  him 
even  though  very  poor,  while  his  hair  was  black 
and  his  teeth  white.  Life  was  a  gamble  any- 
way, one  never  knew  what  was  coming.  He 
was  young,  why  should  he  not  wait  to  see  the 
end  of  the  game.  Soon  the  end  must  come  in 
any  event.  Death,  the  owner  of  Life's  great 
gambling  saloon,  would  come  and  turn  off  all 
the  brilliant  lights  and  stop  the  players.  Why 
not  wait  till  then?  Arese  stretched  himself 


236     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

luxuriously  on  his  rock  in  the  sun,  and  gazed 
up  at  the  butterflies  gently  floating  and  sway- 
ing above  him.  How  happy  they  were !  Pal- 
aces were  nothing  to  them,  nor  mortgages,  nor 
gambling  debts,  nor  false  human  friends,  and 
as  he  sat  gazing  at  them,  to  his  poetic  fancy 
they  suddenly  seemed  to  find  voices  and  sing 
to  him. 

"We  are  the  messengers  of  Hope.  We  are 
the  children  of  realised  dreams.  Hope  on, 
hope  always.  None  can  tell  what  the  future 
holds.  We  were  captives  in  bondage.  We 
were  grubs  on  the  earth.  We  dwelt  on  the 
dark  soil  under  the  cabbage  leaves.  We  saw 
the  brilliant  butterflies  above  us,  but  we  were 
deaf,  we  could  not  hear  what  they  told  us. 
Birds  ate  us;  they  were  flies  who  came  and 
stung  us  in  every  one  of  our  joints,  then  carried 
us  away  in  helpless  agony  to  their  nests,  there 
to  lay  eggs  in  our  paralysed  bodies,  and  the 
young  when  they  hatched  out  ate  us  alive. 
Our  life  was  passed  in  terror,  in  darkness,  in 
toil.  We  could  not  understand,  but  we  en- 
dured patiently,  we  hoped  there  might  be  some- 


THE  BUTTERFLIES'  DANCE     237 

thing  good  ahead.  Then  came  the  end,  we 
had  toiled  and  crawled  but  we  were  so  weary 
we  could  do  not  more.  We  wove  our  little 
shroud,  and  wrapped  ourselves  in  it  in  an  ob- 
scure corner  and  lay  down  to  die,  submissive, 
tmcomp laming,  patient.  Heat  struck  at  us 
and  cold,  and  we  ached  with  cramping  pains  we 
could  not  understand.  Then  one  day  there 
was  a  report  like  thunder,  our  bonds  grew 
loose,  our  shroud  fell,  wre  broke  out  dressed  in 
dazzling  splendour,  and  on  our  glorious  wings 
floated  upwards  to  the  sky  in  ecstasy.  This 
was  what  we  had  waited  for!  Our  dreams 
were  true!  Our  hope  was  realised.  Nothing 
now  but  to  dance  and  rejoice,  to  love,  and  to 
sip  nectar,  to  whirl  and  wheel  in  the  blue  spaces 
of  the  sky.  Hope  on!  through  life,  through 
death,  hope  on." 

Arese  seemed  to  hear  them  singing  this  quite 
distinctly  as  his  eyes  followed  their  soft  smooth 
movements,  and  with  a  sudden  re-birth  of  life- 
desire  in  his  soul,  he  rejected  definitely  the  idea 
of  self-destruction  with  which  he  had  started 
out  from  his  home;  seeking  a  place  where  he 


would  die  unknown,  perhaps  unrecognised, 
merely  some  poor  tramping  stranger  who  had 
met  his  end  by  accident  amongst  the  steep 
rocks  of  a  mountain  pass.  Everything  was 
different  now.  The  new  world  he  had  found 
on  the  top  of  the  pass,  full  of  these  beautiful 
denizens,  had  transformed  him. 

After  all,  debts  could  be  paid,  mortgages 
lifted,  new  loves  found.  The  magic  of  life, 
the  philosopher's  stone  that  turns  all  it  touches 
into  gold,  was  work,  and  that  lay  within  every- 
one's powers.  Everyone  was  good  for  some- 
thing. Some  to  rule  a  state,  others  to  mend 
its  roads,  and  the  world  had  room  for  each  and 
everyone,  a  measure  of  joy  like  a  drink  of 
Falernian  was  there  for  all  who  would  work, 
and  the  blue  sky  and  the  clear  air,  the  top  of 
the  pass,  and  the  dance  of  the  butterflies,  was 
a  free  gift  to  all.  He  would  work,  and  he 
knew  how;  he  had  powers  in  his  brain  long 
unused,  but  now  they  should  be  brought  out. 
He  had  written  a  poem  he  remembered,  just 
a  light  sparkling  poem  that  had  come  into  his 
head  at  a  banquet.  A  friend  had  sent  it  to  a 


THE  BUTTERFLIES'  DANCE     239 

journal,  and  some  time  after,  when  Arese  had 
entirely  forgotten  it,  he  had  received  a  cheque 
in  return.  In  those  days  the  sum  had  seemed 
so  small  that  he  had  been  only  amused,  and  in 
light-hearted  derision  had  twirled  it  into  a  spill 
and  lighted  his  cigarette  with  it!  Arese's 
cheeks  flamed  for  a  moment  as  he  recalled 
this  now.  No  matter!  those  days  were  dead. 
This  hour  on  the  pass  had  shown  him  himself 
and  life  as  he  had  never  seen  them  before. 
Now  he  wrould  work,  and  if  he  could  only  at- 
tain to  a  vine-clad  hut,  with  a  crust  a  day,  still 
he  would  be  patient  and  await  .... 

Arese  had  just  got  to  this  point  in  his  reflec- 
tions when  the  gritty  sharp  sound  of  a  turning 
wheel  caught  his  ear.  He  sat  up  and  looked 
down  the  slope  of  the  pass. 

Coming  up  slowly  he  saw  the  bright  bay  of 
a  horse  drawing  a  carriage  with  two  occupants. 
English  evidently,  a  tall  slim  military  looking 
man  with  grey  hair,  and  a  girl  whose  lovely, 
glowing  face  he  could  just  see  under  her  large 
white  hat.  She  was  all  in  white,  soft  and  filmy 
like  a  cloud  about  her,  which  formed  such  a, 


240     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

contrast  to  her  jet  black  hair,  glossy  and  blue- 
shaded  like  an  Italian's,  and  her  eyes  were  large 
and  midnight-dark,  imfathomably  lovely  as  an 
Italian  girl's  might  be.  But  the  complexion 
was  different  from  the  olive-tinted  skin  of  the 
South.  Its  tint  was  pure  white,  exquisitely 
white  with  the  pale  pink  flush  of  the  English 
wild-rose  on  the  cheeks  and  a  sweet  light  car- 
mine on  the  gentle  lips.  Arese  drew  in  his 
breath  sharply,  and  he  felt  an  enthusiastic  fer- 
vour of  devotion  rush  through  him  for  such  a 
delicate  charming  flower  of  girlhood.  How  he 
could  worship  such  a  sweet  creature,  he  was 
grateful  even  for  the  joy  of  seeing  her  pass  by. 

The  carriage,  surrounded  by  a  coloured 
cloud  of  butterflies,  that,  tame  and  inquisitive, 
had  danced  out  to  meet  it,  crawled  up  very 
slowly  till  it  reached  the  flat  on  the  crown  of 
the  pass,  and  here  the  coachman  drew  the  horse 
to  a  halt  and  turned  in  his  seat  to  address  the 
travellers. 

Arese  next  saw  him  jump  down  and  lead 
the  horse  to  the  inside  edge  where  he  could 
browse  comfortably  on  the  short  bushes  grow- 


THE  BUTTERFLIES'  DANCE     241 

ing  amongst  the  rocks.  The  next  minute  the 
girl  had  opened  the  door  and  got  out ;  she  then 
stood  leaning  on  the  carriage  side  and  talking 
to  her  companion.  After  a  little  discussion  the 
man  inside  settled  himself  apparently  to  a  quiet 
sleep,  stretching  himself  out  in  the  carriage  and 
opening  an  umbrella  as  a  screen  against  the 
sun.  The  girl  arranged  this,  closed  the  door, 
went  to  the  horse's  head  and  patted  its  neck, 
and  then  went  slowly  down  over  the  side  of 
the  road  down  the  steep  flower-covered  slope 
of  the  mountain. 

She  did  not  see  Arese,  as  a  jutting  piece  of 
rock  sheltered  his  motionless  figure.  Singing 
softly  to  herself  she  went  down  among  the 
gorgeous  hued  blossoms,  and  was  lost  to  his 
view.  The  coachman  had  disappeared,  seek- 
ing a  shelter  for  a  siesta  amongst  the  rocks :  the 
man  left  in  the  carriage  seemed  to  have  fallen 
asleep,  and  the  horse  browsed  quietly  at  the 
road's  edge. 

Arese,  alert  and  attentive,  open-eyed  and 
interested,  watched  and  listened. 

The  golden  silence  that  had  been  interrupted 


242     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

fell  again  on  the  pass.  There  was  only  the 
clear  soft  notes  of  the  girl's  singing  voice  as 
she  went  further  and  further  down,  wandering 
from  flower  to  flower,  and  the  clop  clop  of  the 
browsing  horse. 

Arese  lighted  a  cigarette  and  watched  its 
smoke  dreamily.  He  would  much  have  liked 
to  follow  the  lovely  Signer ina  and  help  her  in 
her  search  for  bouquets,  but  he  knew  the  Eng- 
lish were  strict  and  formal  in  their  ways,  and 
he  would  gain  nothing  but  her  adverse  opinion 
of  him  if  he  dared  address  her.  Suddenly  a 
rasping  sound  of  grating  pebbles  drew  his  eyes 
back  to  the  horse,  and  he  was  horrified  to  see 
the  animal  had  strayed  all  across  the  wide  road 
to  the  outer  edge,  and  was  now  busily  cropping 
flowers  and  grass  indiscriminately  and  in  care- 
less eagerness,  getting  his  feet  over  the  side  on 
to  the  steep  slope.  The  carriage  wobbled  and 
dragged  along  after  him;  its  occupant  inside 
apparently  asleep  and  unconscious  of  his  dan- 
ger. 

Arese  sprang  to  his  feet.  Before  the  thing 
happened  he  saw  distinctly  it  was  going  to  hap- 


THE  BUTTERFLIES'  DANCE     243 

pen.  The  horse,  intrigued  by  a  gorgeous  cush- 
ion of  yellow  a  little  further  down  the  slope, 
reached  his  long  neck  out  for  it,  stepping 
down  the  stony  incline;  one  of  the  fore-wheels 
of  the  carriage  was  already  over  the  edge,  the 
carriage  tilted  and  lurched. 

The  next  instant  Arese  was  flying  in  light- 
ning leaps  along  the  precarious  edge  to  the 
horse's  head.  He  had  no  thought  of  his  own 
danger.  He  did  not  even  think  of  the  lovely 
fairy  whom  he  was  serving.  He  was  just 
obeying  that  great  fiery  impulse  to  save,  to 
help,  to  rescue,  which  lives  in  every  noble  soul, 
and  distinguishes  it  from  the  base. 

There  was  a  furious  scramble  of  horse's 
hoofs  as  the  frightened  animal  plunged  on  the 
edge,  trying  to  regain  its  foothold.  Arese  at 
its  head,  with  magnificent  strength  and  cour- 
age, struggled  with  his  firm  slim  hands  to  sup- 
port and  push  it  back  on  to  the  path.  His  feet 
were  digging  into  the  treacherous  slope  as  he 
stood  below,  holding  back  and  up  with  all  his 
force,  horse  and  vehicle.  But  the  weight  was 
too  great,  the  balance  irretrievably  gone;  he 


244     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

knew  he  could  not  avert  the  disaster,  only  per- 
haps by  the  sacrifice  of  self,  lessen  it. 

"Jump  out,  sir,"  he  called  desperately  to  the 
Englishman,  whose  face,  unwhitened  and  un- 
afraid, looked  out  at  him  over  the  front  of  the 
carriage. 

The  door  on  the  far  side  of  the  vehicle  swung 
open,  the  man  sprang  out  on  to  the  road  in 
safety  in  just  that  second  while  Arese  sum- 
moning all  his  strength  held  back  the  plunging 
animal  and  tilting  carriage. 

Then  a  great  roar  went  up  of  falling  stone 
and  rock,  and  a  cloud  of  white  dust  shot  into 
the  air  as  the  edge  gave  way  beneath  the  rock- 
ing weight  and  Arese,  horse  and  carriage,  all 
inextricably  mixed  together,  rolled  headlong 
over  and  down  the  precipitous  flower-decked 
slope.  A  cry  of  great  anguish  went  up.  It 
came  to  Arese's  ears  amongst  all  the  thunder 
of  his  fall.  He  guessed  it  was  the  girl's.  She 
had  seen  his  act.  Good.  If  this  were  death 
he  was  quite  content  to  have  met  it  in  her  serv- 
ice. That  was  his  last  thought.  Then  dark- 
ness and  quiet. 


THE  BUTTERFLIES'  DANCE     245 

Julia,  the  flowers  falling  from  her  hands, 
rushed  straight  up  the  breast  of  the  mountain, 
to  the  shelf  of  green  turf,  on  which  a  tangled 
mass  of  harness,  shafts,  and  overturned  car- 
riage were  lying.  The  horse  by  a  miracle  had 
broken  loose,  rolled  freely  to  a  lower  table- 
land, and  now  having  picked  himself  up,  was 
blithely  resuming  his  interrupted  grazing. 

Her  father  and  the  coachman  she  saw  above 
her  finding  their  way  down  cautiously  to  the 
wreck,  but  she  reached  it  first. 

With  small  white  hands,  delicate  as  the  but- 
terfly's wing,  she  wrenched  aside  the  obscur- 
ing carriage  hood,  pushed  back  a  broken  wheel, 
and  with  arms  made  strong  by  the  fire  of  emo- 
tion, drew  gently  out  the  slight  passive  form 
that  lay  so  terribly  still  now  after  that  tense 
glorious  moment  of  struggle  on  the  pass.  Her 
face  was  as  white  as  the  one  beneath  her,  her 
eyes  torn  wide  open,  black  with  distress  and 
pain. 

"Is  he  dead?"  she  murmured.  "Oh,  God, 
not  that."  She  put  her  hand  on  his  chest. 
She  could  feel  no  heart-beat.  She  looked  at 


246     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

the  long  scarlet  line  by  the  temple,  but  that 
was  not  deep,  surely?  With  deft  fingers  she 
loosened  the  dark  blue  tie  that  seemed  keeping 
the  collar  of  his  soft  shirt  too  tight,  and  freed 
his  throat.  What  a  round  splendid  throat  it 
was,  and  then  seating  herself  on  the  mountain 
side  drew  his  head  on  to  her  lap.  She 
smoothed  the  dark  hair,  all  covered  with  white 
and  stony  dust,  from  the  brow,  and  gazed 
down  into  the  marble-like  face  with  a  passion- 
ate tenderness. 

In  a  few  moments  her  father  was  beside  her ; 
the  old  coachman  behind  him  expostulating, 
self -accusing,  mumbling. 

"I  hope  he  is  not  killed,  Ju,  is  he?  Such  a 
splendid  thing  to  do!  I  shall  never  forgive 
myself  if  it's  cost  him  his  life." 

Julia  looked  up  piteously. 

"I  don't  know.  ...  I  think  he  must  be 
...  it  was  so  awful.  ...  I  saw  him  fall. 
Isn't  it  a  beautiful  face?  I  never  saw  anyone 
so  handsome." 

The  old  soldier,  Colonel  of  an  Indian  regi- 
ment, nodded. 


THE  BUTTERFLIES'  DANCE     247 

"Fine  fellow,  and  had  the  pluck  of  the 
devil!"  He  went  down  on  his  knees  and  put 
his  flask  of  brandy  to  the  white  lips.  A  very 
little  seemed  to  go  down  the  throat,  but  Arese 
neither  sighed  nor  moved. 

"I  do  believe  he  is  dead,"  said  Julia,  begin- 
ning to  sob,  and  her  hot  tears  fell  on  the  un- 
conscious face. 

The  Colonel  shook  his  head,  and  looked  at  it 
doubtfully. 

"You  know,  Ju,  I  don't  like  the  idea  of 
carrying  him  up  the  mountain  to  the  road  our- 
selves, even  if  we  could  do  it.  There  may  be 
fractures  somewhere,  and  if  we  double  him  up 
at  all,  or  move  him  awkwardly  we  shall  make 
them  much  worse.  Regular  stretcher  bearers 
and  stretcher  and  ambulance  is  what  we  want. 
Had  we  better  send  Beppo  down  after 
them?" 

"Beppo  is  no  good.  He  won't  get  enough 
attention  paid  him.  You  had  better  go  your- 
self." 

"But  my  Italian's  so  poor.  I'm  helpless 
without  you." 


248     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

"Well,  you  had  better  both  go.  Beppo  can 
do  the  talking." 

"But  what  about  you  .  .  .  left  alone?" 

"I  shall  be  all  right.  I  would  like  to  stay 
with  him.  Think  what  he  has  done  for  us," 
and  a  fresh  rain  of  tears  broke  from  her  pain- 
filled  eyes. 

Now  it  was  about  this  time  that  conscious- 
ness came  back  to  Arese;  at  first  only  a  dim 
glimmer,  not  enough  to  make  him  move  nor 
open  his  eyes,  but  he  heard  their  voices  and 
what  they  were  arranging,  faintly,  and  rather 
as  if  in  a  dream ;  then  slowly  memory  revived, 
helped  by  their  words.  He  recalled  the  acci- 
dent, yes,  and  the  fall,  and  then  he  realised  his 
present  position ;  his  head  was  on  her  lap,  that 
darling  girl !  Soft  white  clouds  seemed  round 
him,  and  a  warm  smooth  palm  brushed  back 
his  hair.  Such  delicious  sensation  bathed  his 
whole  frame,  he  thought  he  had  better  not  come 
to  just  ye*t.  Where  could  he  be  better  off? 
Whatever  they  did  with  him,  he  wished  for 
nothing  better  than  this,  to  lie  clasped  in  those 
sweet  arms,  soothed,  caressed,  cried  over.  He 


THE  BUTTERFLIES'  DANCE     249 

lay  perfectly  still  and  listened.  From  their 
talk  he  guessed  they  thought  him  dead  or  dy- 
ing. He  knew  he  was  not  dead,  nor  did  he 
think  himself  to  be  very  seriously  injured. 
He  was  in  no  pain  except  what  might  come 
from  bruises  and  scratches,  and  every  fibre  of 
his  body  seemed  conscious  and  thrilling  to  her 
touch.  Arese  heard  them  planning  that  the 
two  men  should  walk  down  to  the  town  and  get 
help,  and  Julia  should  meantime  stay  watching 
him  on  the  mountain  side.  This  he  thought 
was  a  perfect  arrangement. 

Presently  the  talk  ceased,  and  the  scratching 
and  rattling  of  small  stones  told  him  the  men 
were  climbing  back  to  the  pass. 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  minutes,  and 
then  her  sweet  low  voice,  like  the  voice  of  a 
dove  on  its  nest,  broke  out  again. 

"Oh,  darling,  darling.  I  hope  you  haven't 
died  for  us,  you  beautiful  darling,  I  shall  never 
be  happy  again  if  you  have !"  and  the  soft  palm 
caressed  his  forehead. 

Arese  felt  an  intolerable  longing  to  open  his 
eyes  and  gaze  on  the  lovely  face  he  knew  was 


250     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

just  above  his  own,  but  like  Orpheus  bringing 
Eurydice  back  from  Hades,  he  knew  that  if 
he  allowed  himself  that  gaze,  Julia,  though  she 
might  not  fade  from  his  eyes,  would  certainly 
raise  up  instantly  the  cold  barrier  of  conven- 
tionality between  them,  now  so  completely 
thrown  down  by  emotion,  anxiety,  admiration, 
and  his  own  helplessness  and  apparent  death- 
like unconsciousness.  So  he  steadily  remained 
with  eyes  closed,  while  every  other  sense  in 
him  was  drowned  in  delight  at  her  touch,  her 
voice,  her  proximity,  at  the  adoring,  admiring 
tenderness  she  poured  over  him. 

It  was  very  lonely  and  quiet  on  the  moun- 
tain side.  Golden  silence  had  resumed  its 
sway,  and  the  butterflies  in  their  gentle  clouds, 
not  a  bit  afraid  of  these  human  beings  who 
kept  so  still,  alighted  on  them  in  fluttering 
numbers,  and  floated  round  and  over  them,  and 
settled  on  the  ground  near  them.  The  girl 
would  not  let  them  alight  on  his  face,  but  gently 
waved  them  from  it.  Arese  would  not  have 
minded  if  they  had.  He  loved  those  butter- 
flies. Had  they  not  saved  him  in  his  darkest 


THE  BUTTERFLIES'  DANCE     251 

hour  whispered  to  him  of  Hope  and  Life's 
great  promise,  nearly  always  fulfilled  for  those 
who  work  and  wait.  But  for  them  he  might 
have  crept  through  the  low  dark  door,  but  they 
had  coaxed  him  to  wait,  and  brought  him  to 
this,  to  the  paradise  of  her  enclosing  arms.  As 
he  lay  there  he  was  profoundly  thankful  for 
two  things,  that  he  had  followed  the  butter- 
flies' advice,  and  that  he  had  learnt  English. 
How  he  had  hated  his  English  lesson  as  a  boy, 
but  his  mother  had  wished  him  to  learn,  and 
to  please  that  beautiful  and  adored  mother  he 
had  learnt.  He  had  struggled  through  that 
barbarous  tongue  as  he  might  have  done 
through  rocks  and  boulders.  And  now !  in  her 
voice,  it  was  like  the  whispers  of  Heaven,  and 
the  murmur  of  a  thousand  harps  and  flutes. 

"Oh,  darling,  if  you  would  only  open  your 
eyes !" 

How  Arese  longed  to !  But  no.  This  was 
too  divine  to  spoil.  Arese  knew  that  to  a  con- 
scious man  no  woman  will  ever  really  open  her 
heart.  Never  does  he  see  more  than  the  mere 
presentment  of  her  soul.  There  are  veils  there 


252     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

of  reserve,  of  reticence,  of  illusion  that  she  will 
never  divest  herself  of.  But  here  in  his  death- 
like trance,  with  closed  physical  eyes,  he  was 
beholding  in  all  its  splendour,  in  all  its  glory, 
without  a  veil  between,  the  tender,  passionate, 
shining  female  soul.  He  was  awed,  over- 
whelmed ;  the  sincerity  of  her  pity,  her  tender- 
ness, her  grief  vibrated  all  through  her  and 
through  him.  The  glow  of  her  passionate  ad- 
miration for  him  seemed  to  pour  along  his  veins 
its  soft  white  fire.  Never  had  he  been  so  loved ; 
in  all  the  arms  he  had  lain,  none  had  clasped 
him  quite  like  this.  Mere  physical  ecstasy  of 
the  senses  was  something  quite  apart,  infinitely 
inferior.  In  this,  he  felt  her  soul  and  being  had 
entered,  every  emotion  in  her  heart  and  brain 
had  been  roused,  enthusiasm  for  his  deed,  ten- 
derest  pity  for  his  fate,  passionate  admiration 
for  his  face,  all  these,  like  volcanic  streams  set 
loose  by  seismic  shock,  he  realised  were  rushing 
through  her  pure  and  lovely  frame  and  passing, 
all  mingled  in  one  great  electric  wave,  from 
her  to  him.  Had  he  indeed  been  dead,  Arese 
thought,  that  living  wave  of  love  must  have 


THE  BUTTERFLIES'  DANCE     253 

brought  him  back  on  its  crest,  to  the  world. 

Never  again  he  knew,  though  they  might 
marry  and  have  children,  would  any  embrace 
be  quite  so  close  in  its  truest  sense,  as  this. 
Physical  intimacies,  though  human  souls  strain 
after  them,  hoping  to  buy  such  moments  as  this, 
do  not  bring  them,  rather  do  they  seem  to  push 
the  yearning  desiring  spirits  asunder. 

It  is  only  in  moments  like  this  of  extreme 
shock,  of  joy,  of  pain,  of  death,  that  one  soul 
dashes  out  of  its  prison  house,  freed  for  one 
moment,  and  mingles  and  fuses  with  another; 
one  terrible  moment  of  awed  delight.  Then 
the  escaped  soul  must  go  back  alone  to  the 
human  breast  that  owns  it.  Its  lot  is  to  dwell 
alone. 

But  Arese  realised  he  was  in  the  centre  of 
one  of  those  great  maelstroms  in  which  the 
soul  gets  free;  he  knew  that  hers  was  rushing 
to  his,  and  he  beheld  it  for  that  supreme  mo- 
ment in  all  its  dazzling  purity  and  beauty,  and 
knew  it  was  his  own. 

So  drowned  was  he  in  all  the  flood  of  ex- 
quisite emotion  and  sensation  that  poured 


254     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

round  him  and  through  him  and  swept  his  men- 
tal being  along  with  it,  that  the  cramping  pain 
of  all  his  body  from  lying  without  moving,  es- 
caped him;  it  was  subconscious.  All  he  re- 
alised was  that  whirling,  electric  waves  of  de- 
light were  circling  through  him,  and  that  each 
time  her  gentle  arms  pressed  his  yielding  shoul- 
ders, he  knew  a  fresh  delirium  of  joy. 

Suddenly  he  heard  her  say. 

"Oh,  if  I  can't  revive  him,  I'll  die  with  him. 
I  can't  bear  this." 

He  felt  her  little  hand  press  again  on  his 
breast.  Surely  he  thought  his  heart  was  beat- 
ing hard  enough  to  tell  her  the  truth.  But 
she  did  not  seem  to  feel  that.  Her  hand  struck 
against  the  hard  bottle  in  his  breast  pocket  and 
she  drew  it  out. 

"Prussic  acid!"  it  was  just  an  awed  whisper. 

Then  remembering  the  lightning  deadliness 
of  that  bottle,  knowing  if  she  but  drew  the  cork 
it  might  be  the  end,  Arese  broke  instantly  from 
those  lovely  chains  which  held  him. 

He  shot  out  an  arm,  snatched  the  vial  from 
her,  and  tossed  it  down  the  slope.  His  eyes 


THE  BUTTERFLIES'  DANCE     255 

were  upon  her  face,  radiant,  lovely,  with  self- 
revelation  as  he  might  never  see  it  again. 

"Darling,  I  am  alive!" 

He  saw  the  scarlet  rush  over  cheeks  and 
brow,  he  saw  the  glorious  eyes  veiling  them- 
selves  with  white  lids,  he  felt  the  arms  falling 
from  him.  He  threw  both  of  his  round  her, 
crushing  the  lovely  breast  together,  drawing 
her  down  to  him  irresistibly,  and  their  lips  met 
with  an  electric  shock  of  exquisite  happiness, 
but  in  that  moment  her  soul  leapt  back  to  its 
cell,  and  the  gates  of  mundane  existence  were 
put  up  and  barred. 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE 

BLUE  trees,  green  sky,  and  red  road,  what 
a  strange  landscape !  The  kind  of  land- 
scape which  if  pictured  and  hung  on  the  walls  of 
the  Academy,  maiden  ladies,  who  had  never 
been  out  of  England,  would  pause  before  and 
say  to  each  other,  "You  know,  my  dear,  it 
couldn't  possibly  be  like  that!"  And  yet  here 
it  was  in  life,  in  the  fact,  one  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful, vivid,  and  attractive,  if  bizarre,  landscapes 
that  the  Divine  hand  ever  created,  gorgeous, 
glowing,  dazzling,  bathed  in  the  topaz  radiance 
of  an  Arizona  evening. 

The  one  solitary  wayfarer  coming  down  the 
red  road  on  horseback,  drew  gently  rein,  and 
turned  in  his  saddle  to  gaze  on  it.  He  had 
been  riding  down  the  incline  from  the  West, 
and  on  the  crown  of  the  slope  dark  firs,  their 
sharp  pointed  summits  jutting  into  the  pure 
bright  emerald  green  of  the  sky.  No  other 
colour  appeared  in  it,  no  fleck  of  cloud  stained 

256 


THE  RIDE  IXTO  LIFE        257 

the  perfect  clearness  of  it.  Just  that  one  mar- 
vellous tint  of  luminous  transparent  green  was 
all  over  it  so  that  it  looked  like  a  hollowed  out 
emerald  hung  above  the  earth. 

Slowly  the  man's  eyes  travelled  up  the  road 
he  had  come,  that  bright  red  road,  like  a  broad 
uncreased  crimson  ribbon,  laid  down  among 
the  blue  firs  that  pressed  up  to  its  borders.  It 
was  the  month  of  December,  and  in  that  month 
the  Arizona  fir  dresses  its  little  ones  in  pale 
sky-blue  clothes,  giving  an  eerie  look  to  the  hill- 
sides. The  older  trees  remain  their  usual  dark 
colour,  but  all  the  little  firs  from  a  foot  high 
to  six  or  seven  feet,  put  on  at  this  season  their 
suits  of  fairy  blue.  And  to  eyes  such  as  those 
of  the  man  now  gazing  on  it,  the  scene  in  all  its 
strange,  still,  lonely  loveliness  carried  a  pro- 
found delight. 

He  was  nearing  the  tiny  Mormon  settlement 
of  Fir,  buried  in  the  heart  of  the  Tonto  Basin, 
a  hundred  miles  approximately  from  any- 
where; he  could  already  see  a  few  white  cot- 
tages amongst  the  trees,  and  smell  the  scent  of 
wood  fires  in  the  still  golden  air.  The  swift 


258     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

bright  sunset  would  soon  be  over,  and  he  pre- 
ferred to  enjoy  it  here  on  the  road  alone  rather 
than  amongst  the  settlers.  He  could  enter  the 
village  at  the  fall  of  dark. 

The  horse  waited  motionless  with  him, 
statuesque,  without  restlessness,  fully  in  ac- 
cord, as  always,  with  his  owner's  moods. 

He  was  hung  all  over  with  useful  and  varied 
articles :  One  could  find  most  things  necessary 
and  common  to  camp  life  dangling  against 
him,  or  strapped  tightly  with  small  buckskin 
straps,  but  one  looked  in  vain  for  a  whip  or  a 
spur.  Edgar  Ashley  and  his  horse  Ben  were 
close  and  constant  companions,  they  talked 
without  words;  thought  and  impulse  passed 
from  one  to  the  other  without  effort,  and  Edgar 
would  no  more  have  dreamed  of  striking  his 
horse  than  a  man  does  of  striking  his  dearest 
friend. 

Ben  knew  perfectly  well  now  that  he  had 
to  stand  still  and  admire  the  landscape  while 
his  master  did  the  same,  being  well  accus- 
tomed to  these  halts,  especially  at  sunset  when 
earth  and  sky  seemed  to  flame  round  then,  and 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE        259 

he  was  quite  content  to  remain  there — though 
he  knew  by  the  camp-fire  scent  in  the  air  that 
rest  and  oats  were  temptingly  near — feeling 
the  serene  joy  in  his  master's  veins  quiver 
through  his  own. 

Ben  was  a  Turkish  horse;  a  jet  black  stallion 
of  great  size  and  power.  Edgar  had  acquired 
him  in  Constantinople  where  such  horses  are 
common,  for  the  Turk,  unjustly  abused  and 
misunderstood  as  he  is  in  England,  is  in  truth 
the  very  best  breeder  and  trainer  of  horses,  be- 
cause one  of  the  kindest-hearted  men  in  the 
world.  Horses  in  the  East  are  born  without 
vice.  This  is  a  well-known  fact,  and  why? 
Because  vice  in  the  horse  is  only  the  result  of 
man's  inhuman  cruelty,  and  in  the  East  the 
horse  is  allowed  to  maintain  the  true  docility 
of  his  nature  unimpaired.  Whip  and  spur  in 
the  streets  of  Stamboul  are  unknown,  except 
where  foreigners  have  introduced  them. 
There  is  no  horse-breaking — hideous  word — in 
Turkey.  In  countries  where  man  "breaks" 
horses  he  has  indeed  but  the  broken  fragment 
of  a  horse.  In  Turkey  one  can  still  see  the 


260    DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

horse  itself,  magnificently  strong,  intelligent 
as  a  woman,  docile  and  sweet  tempered.  Ben 
had  never  been  hurt  in  his  life:  he  had  been 
brought  up  as  a  household  pet,  and  all  his 
Turkish  ancestors  before  him  also.  Of  man 
he  had  neither  hatred  nor  fear,  only  love. 
Love  and  caresses  he  had  been  used  to  all  his 
life,  and  he  gave  back  the  service  of  his  superb 
gifts  in  return. 

The  glow  faded,  and  the  swift  soft  dusk 
came  down  enfolding  all  the  strange  barbaric 
colours  in  its  own  even  mauve,  and  the  silver 
sickle  of  the  new  moon  showed  one  delicate 
point  above  the  belt  of  pine  trees  in  the  East. 

Edgar  turned  with  a  sigh,  and  let  Ben  trot 
through  the  little  brook  that  broke  out  from  the 
wood  and  dance  unrestrained  across  the  road 
at  the  bottom  of  the  incline,  and  thus  rode  into 
the  little  Mormon  settlement  of  Fir. 

There  were  things  he  wanted  to  buy,  so  he 
walked  his  horse  slowly  amongst  the  scattered 
frame  houses,  finally  pausing  before  a  fairly 
large  substantial  dwelling,  on  the  door  of 
which  he  knocked. 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE        261 

It  was  opened  at  once  by  a  man  who  had 
that  distinctive  look  that  these  Western  Mor- 
mons always  have.  His  large  white  square 
face  was  surmounted  by  a  flat  black  shovel  hat ; 
he  was  all  in  black,  thin  old-looking  black,  and 
the  frock-coat  was  buttoned  tightly  down  the 
middle  of  his  body,  which  gave  the  same  ex- 
traordinary impression  of  being  fat  and  swelled 
as  the  large  pale  face. 

Edgar  recognised  the  look  at  once,  never 
having  seen  any  Mormon  without  it,  but  the 
man's  looks  were  not  bothering  him  at  all  then, 
his  ability  and  willingness  to  sell  stores  was  the 
main  point. 

"Good  evening,"  he  said  pleasantly.  "Can 
I  get  some  bread,  milk,  and  eggs  from  you, 
and  most  important  of  all,  some  oats?  I  can 
pay  in  cash." 

"I  think  we  can  manage  to  let  you  have  all 
those,"  the  man  answered,  amiably.  "Will 
you  come  in?" 

Edgar  dismounted  and  stepped  over  the 
threshold  straight  into  a  large  square  room,  the 
very  picture  of  cleanliness  and  order.  A  blaz- 


262     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

ing  fire  roared  up  the  great  open  chimney,  its 
cedar  logs  crackling  under  the  swinging  iron 
kettle,  its  warm  red  light  falling  cheerily  on  the 
boards  of  the  floor  which  showed  a  flour-like 
whiteness. 

"Will  you  tie  your  horse?" 

Edgar  laughed.  "Oh,  no,  Ben  won't  stir 
away  without  me.  We're  one,  eh,  Ben?"  he 
said,  slapping  gently  the  satin  of  the  creature's 
arching  neck.  Then  he  closed  the  door  and 
followed  his  host  to  the  fire. 

"You've  a  nice  place  here,"  he  said,  stretch- 
ing his  hands  to  the  blaze.  From  seventy  de- 
grees fahrenheit  at  noon  the  temperature  sinks 
rapidly  to  freezing  at  dark  in  the  Arizona  win- 
ter, and  this  warm  interior,  full  of  its  rough 
clean  comfort,  struck  pleasingly  his  eyes. 

"Glad  to  make  you  welcome.  You're  a 
stranger  in  these  parts,  I  guess.  Hunting 
mountain  lion  for  the  bounty,  perhaps?" 

"T^o.  I'm  just  touring  through  the  coun- 
try making  pictures  of  it.  I'm  an  artist." 

"Ah,  just  so,"  replied  the  other  with  vague 
politeness,  which  Edgar  knew  covered  the 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE        263 

other's  scepticism.  Men  only  went  to  the 
Tonto  Basin  for  two  reasons,  one  of  which 
was  hunting  the  animals  on  which  the  State  had 
set  a  bounty,  the  other,  to  escape  the  law. 

Edgar  saw  that  he  was  in  the  other's  eyes,  if 
not  a  hunter  then  probably  a  fugitive. 

"Sit  down,"  the  Mormon  said,  hospitably 
drawing  up  a  large  wooden  rocking  chair,  "and 
I'll  go  and  see  what  we  have." 

He  went  through  an  inner  door,  and  Edgar, 
left  alone,  rocked  in  his  chair  in  the  firelight 
and  looked  about  him. 

"Whatever  faults  these  Mormons  have,"  he 
thought  to  himself,  "lack  of  cleanliness,  order, 
and  friendly  hospitality  is  not  one  of  them." 
While  he  sat  there  musing  on  these  strange  peo- 
ple and  their  ways,  and  on  the  justice  or  in- 
justice of  their  being  driven  forth  from  the 
city  they  had  created  at  Salt  Lake  into  wilds 
like  these,  the  door  opened  again,  and  he 
turned,  expecting  to  see  the  swelled  figure  and 
white  face  of  his  host.  The  next  instant  he  had 
risen,  for  instead  there  stood  framed  in  the 
doorway  the  form  of  a  girl,  and  such  a  dear 


264     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

charming  delightful  girl.  As  she  advanced 
into  the  glow  of  the  firelight,  Edgar  could  not 
help  thinking  she  looked  like  something  de- 
licious to  eat.  Why  this  occurred  to  him  he 
could  not  say,  except  that  where  her  blue  cot- 
ton gown  turned  down  at  the  throat,  it  revealed 
a  skin  of  the  most  exquisite  whiteness,  and  the 
cheeks  had  such  a  pure  and  lovely  rose  colour 
on  their  firm  round  outlines.  Her  hair  of 
burnished  chestnut  was  brushed  away  from  her 
smooth  white  forehead,  and  gleamed  with  red 
and  golden  lights  in  the  glow  from  the  fire. 
Her  dark  blue  grey  eyes  looked  cool  and  clear, 
and  added  to  the  impression  she  gave  of  ex- 
quisite freshness,  purity,  and  health. 

In  one  hand  she  held  a  basket,  in  the  other  a 
frothing  jug  of  milk. 

"We  have  half  a  dozen  eggs  and  this  milk, 
and  father  is  bringing  the  oats  and  bread,"  she 
said,  setting  the  basket  and  jug  on  the  table. 

Then  she  looked  up  at  him,  and  he  down  at 
her,  in  the  red  light.  Edgar  was  good-looking, 
and  he  knew  it,  but  never  until  now,  under  her 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE        265 

soft  mild  scrutiny,  had  that  knowledge  brought 
him  his  present  glad  satisfaction. 

"I  saw  you  riding  down  to  our  place  a  little 
while  ago  in  the  sunset,"  she  said,  gazing  up  at 
him  frankly.  "You  looked  one  with  your 
horse,  just  like  a  picture  I  have,  look  here!" 

She  ran  to  the  great  wooden  dresser  that 
filled  up  nearly  all  one  side  of  the  room,  pulled 
open  a  drawer,  and  took  out  an  old  and  much 
torn  magazine.  With  swift  fingers  she  turned 
over  the  pages  till  she  found  the  desired  one; 
then  laid  the  book  flat  on  the  table  and  pointed 
to  a  full  page,  well-engraved  illustration. 

"There!"  she  said. 

Edgar,  amused,  bent  over  the  picture  beside 
her.  She  seemed  deeply  interested  in  it,  al- 
most fascinated.  Her  little  pink  forefinger 
pointed  to  its  title,  "The  Centaur."  It  was  la 
picture  full  of  life  and  fire.  The  equine  part 
of  the  fabled  creature  certainly  resembled  the 
beautiful  form  of  Ben,  while  the  curly  head  and 
strong  shoulders  of  the  human  part,  Edgar  saw 
in  a  glance,  bore  a  strange  accidental  resem- 


266     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

blance  to  his  own.  In  his  arms,  however,  the 
Centaur  of  the  picture  carried  a  protesting 
nymph. 

Edgar  laughed  as  the  girl  hung  over  the 
magazine;  a  great  curl  of  her  chestnut  hair 
fell  forward  over  her  shoulder  and  almost  hid 
the  page.  Then  she  looked  up  again. 

"The  girl  there  is  struggling,"  she  remarked, 
"but  I  shouldn't!  I  am  sealed  to  Ezra  to  be 
his  seventh  wife :  he  has  six  already  you  know, 
and  I've  often  hoped  someone  would  come  and 
carry  me  away.  I've  looked  at  that  picture 
every  day  for  months,  and  then  this  evening 
when  I  saw  you  riding  down  the  hill  it 
seemed  ..." 

She  broke  off  suddenly,  giving  him  a  deep 
penetrating  look  from  her  dark  blue  eyes  as  if 
searching  him  to  see  if  he  were  ridiculing  her. 
But  Edgar  was  only  giving  acute  attention  as 
his  wont  was  to  any  new  thing  presented  to  him. 
Her  talk  was  rather  bewildering,  but  he 
guessed  at  the  thread  of  it,  and  she  was  won- 
derfully, absorbingly  pretty  to  look  at,  as 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE        267 

lovely  and  bright  and  fresh  as  a  flower  that 
sways  in  the  wind  at  one's  feet. 

"It  seemed,"  he  took  up  her  words  gently, 
"as  if  I'd  come  straight  out  of  the  picture  to 
you?" 

There  was  a,  noise  of  feet  without,  voices, 
and  the  opening  of  the  door.  She  had  no  time 
to  answer.  She  closed  the  magazine  and 
slipped  it  into  its  drawer,  and  was  putting  some 
hay  over  the  eggs  in  the  basket  when  her  father 
and  some  of  the  other  elders  came  into  the 
room.  They  all  were  in  the  same  thin  faded 
black,  with  puffed  looking  figures  and  square 
white  faces  beneath  flat  shovel  hats  which  they 
took  off  on  entering,  displaying  smooth  lank 
hair,  worn  sufficiently  long  to  reach  their  col- 
lars. A  stout  well-made  woman  came  in  with 
them,  who  smiled  genially  at  Edgar,  and  one 
or  two  ordinary  looking  girls.  His  host  came 
forward  with  a  great  bag  of  oats  swinging  in 
one  hand,  and  a  roll  of  fine  white  bread  in  the 
other. 

"Our  own  baking,"  he  remarked,  eyeing  it 


268     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

proudly.  "Now,  Mister,  shall  I  pack  these  on 
the  horse  right  now,  or  will  you  stay  and  have 
supper  with  us?" 

Edgar  looked  round  the  room  crowded  with 
figures,  and  the  customary  quiet  of  his  camp 
under  the  stars  alone  with  Ben  called  to  him. 
The  very  fact  that  the  girl's  great  beauty  and 
her  mysterious  words  to  him  had  created  a 
bond  between  him  and  her,  was  another  reason 
why  he  did  not  wish  to  accept  hospitality  from 
her  father,  and  possibly  the  obnoxious  Ezra. 
Which  was  he  of  all  these  men  present,  he  won- 
dered. They  all  looked  exactly  alike  to  him. 

"It's  very  kind  of  you,  but  I  think  I'll  go  on 
and  make  camp,"  he  said,  with  his  pleasant 
smile.  "How  much  do  I  owe  you?" 

The  Mormon  named  a  very  moderate  sum, 
which  Edgar  laid  on  the  table.  He  took  the 
milk  and  poured  it  into  a  calabash  slung  over 
his  shoulder,  picked  up  the  basket  of  eggs,  and 
with  a  cheery  "Good  night  and  thanks,"  fol- 
lowed his  host  through  the  main  door.  The 
girl  came  after  them. 

The  night  reigned  now  in  all  its  glory;  the 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE        269 

intoxicating  Arizona  night  with  its  splendour 
of  glittering  stars,  its  frosty  fine  dry  air,  which 
seems  as  one  drinks  it  in,  like  draughts  of 
chilled  champagne,  and  its  essence  of  manznn- 
ita  flowers  rising  all  round  one,  mixed  with  the 
scent  of  the  cedar  and  the  pine. 

Ben  was  waiting,  patient  and  docile,  and  as 
her  father  went  to  tie  on  him  the  oats  and  bread, 
the  girl  went  to  his  head  and  looked  straight 
up  into  his  great  lustrous  eyes.  She  stroked 
him,  and  then  put  her  cheeks  and  lips  to  his 
satin  neck.  Edgar  watched  her,  and  such  was 
his  love  for  the  horse  that  nothing  she  could 
have  done  would  'have  moved  him  more. 
While  the  Mormon  was  busy  with  the  oat  bag, 
she  managed  to  murmur  to  Edgar  as  they  both 
stood  at  Ben's  head. 

"Help  me!  Save  me!  I  don't  want  to 
marry  Ezra." 

"I  will  camp  close  here  by  the  clump  of 
redwoods,"  was  all  he  could  whisper  back. 

Then  he  mounted,  and  Ben  shot  away  like 
an  arrow  as  Edgar  waved  his  hat  and  called 
"Good  night"  to  them.  He  saw  father  and 


270     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

dauhter  disappear  into  the  gush  of  light  as  the 
big  door  swung  open  and  shut.  The  road  led 
up  a  slight  incline  from  the  spring,  and  the 
clump  of  great  redwood  firs  lay  on  the  right 
hand,  well  away  from  the  settlement. 

Here  Edgar  reined  in  Ben,  and  dismounting 
began  to  strip  everything  off  him,  and  when 
this  was  done,  Ben  sprang  away  from  him  and 
took  a  delightful  roll  on  the  ground  between 
two  great  bushes  of  manzanita  flowers;  there 
was  no  grass  to  roll  on,  only  the  dry,  soft, 
sandy  soil,  but  that  did  just  as  well,  and  after, 
he  was  ready  for  the  feed  of  oats  Edgar  turned 
out  for  him  on  a  gunny  sack.  A  little  silver 
trickle  of  water  ran  down  beside  the  redwoods, 
and  here  Edgar  filled  his  kettle,  and  half  an 
hour  after  his  arrival,  his  simple  camp  was 
made,  and  he  sat  down  to  drink  his  tea  and 
think.  Something  he  felt  had  boomed  down 
into  his  easy  simply  existence  when  he  had  first 
spoken  to  the  girl  that  evening,  something  that 
threatened  to  wreck  and  destroy  rather  than 
promised  to  bless. 

The  cedar  logs  burned  brightly  at  his  feet, 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE        271 

making  a  clear  red  gold  fire  with  only  a  faint 
blue  smoke,  which  in  rising  threw  out  a  scent 
like  incense  on  the  air.  The  night  was  per- 
fectly still,  and  walls  of  velvet  darkness  stood 
round  him.  The  flare  of  the  fire  showed  the 
huge  red  trunks  of  the  trees,  going  up  and  up 
it  seemed,  to  infinite  heights  until  far  above 
him  spread  the  roof  of  their  glorious  green 
foliage  supported  on  the  red  rafters  of  their 
boughs.  Through  the  roof  here  and  there,  he 
could  see  the  flash  of  a  tremendous  star. 

A  few  cut  pine  branches  with  a  blanket 
thrown  on  them  made  his  bed,  and  no  bed  of 
eiderdown  encased  in  gold  could  be  more 
sumptuous.  The  spring  of  the  pine  branch  is 
better  than  any  spring  ever  invented  by  man. 
The  supple  rock  of  it  as  one  turns  or  moves 
cannot  be  imitated  by  any  bed  in  the  world, 
nor  can  any  other  couch  cradle  one  into  such 
soft  slumber. 

He  rose  next  morning  with  the  dawn. 
Dawn  in  the  Tonto  Basin!  The  words  are 
simple,  but  what  a  spectacle  of  grandeur  they 
cover !  The  sea  of  pink  light  that  comes  swim- 


272     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

ming  through  the  trees!  The  straight  stems 
of  the  pine  all  lit  with  sun  till  they  look  like 
pillars  of  solid  gold !  The  bright  clear  blue  of 
the  morning  sky !  The  scent  in  the  air  of  resin ! 
The  exquisite  tracery  of  frost  on  all  the  little 
trees !  The  wonderful  'music  of  the  birds  that 
burst  into  a  chorus  of  rejoicing!  The  flight 
of  jays  to  the  brook,  that  comes  down  through 
the  pink  air,  a  swooping  cloud  of  blue !  Here 
is  a  banquet  to  the  senses  that  the  poor  grovel- 
ling house-bound  dweller  under  roofs  never  en- 
joys. Civilisation  has  robbed  him  of  his  birth- 
right, the  banquet  Nature  spreads  for  us  every 
day  at  dawn. 

Edgar  got  up  from  his  bed  of  pine  branches 
feeling  every  muscle  rested  by  their  spring, 
and  his  lungs  toned  up  by  their  fragrance. 

He  whistled,  and  Ben  came  trotting  up  to 
him  with  a  joyous  whinney,  kicking  up  the 
golden  leaves  of  the  beech  and  chestnut  that 
strewed  the  ground,  crisp  and  sun-baked. 

Edgar  fondled  and  fed  him,  and  then  walked 
singing  to  the  brook.  All  his  system  seemed 
to  sing.  He  felt  so  keenly  all  his  health  and 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE        273 

youth  and  strength;  life  seemed  bubbling  up  to 
the  very  brim  of  his  being.  He  made  his  cedar 
log  fire  and  sat  down  to  enjoy  his  breakfast  in 
the  clear  sparkling  air. 

After  breakfast  he  cleared  up  his  camp, 
thoroughly  groomed  Ben,  had  a  wash  in  the 
brook  which  he  shared  with  the  fluttering,  fuss- 
ing, screaming  jays,  and  then  boiled  up  some 
water,  and  hanging  a  little  mirror  on  a  cedar 
bough,  had  a  careful  and  successful  shave.  All 
this  over,  he  presently  sat  down  on  a  log  by  the 
fire  and  gazed  meditatingly  towards  the  Mor- 
mon houses  which  were  just  visible  through 
the  innumerable  intervening  trees;  and  a  pic- 
turesque figure  he  looked  in  blue  jean,  with  his 
high  boots,  belt  round  his  slim  waist,  and  large 
sombrero  hat  shading  his  dark  and  handsome 
face.  "Would  she  come,  and  when,  and  what 
should  he  do  and  say?"  were  the  questions  tor- 
menting him. 

He  loved  the  Tonto  Basin,  and  so  far  he  had 
roamed  about  in  its  hundreds  of  miles  of  beauty 
perfectly  happy  and  without  a  care.  He  had 
never  clashed  with  any  of  the  inhabitants,  the 


274    DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

ranchers,  few  and  far  between,  had  traded  with 
him,  the  hunters,  seeing  him  wandering  with 
his  artist's  sketch  pad,  had  not  resented  his 
presence,  and  now  the  Mormons  had  been 
friendly.  He  was  free  of  all  the  delights  of 
that  blessed,  peaceful,  solitary  valley  where  the 
sun  always  blazed,  and  skies  were  blue  as  in 
Paradise,  and  he  foresaw,  if  he  took  this  girl, 
as  she  evidently  wished,  the  Tonto  Basin  must 
for  ever  be  closed  to  him.  If  they  both  es- 
caped the  Mormons  could  not  follow  them  to 
civilisation  since  they  themselves  and  their  cus- 
toms were  outside  the  law,  but  they  would  con- 
tinue to  live  in  the  Basin,  and  their  vengeance 
would  be  upon  him  if  he  ever  returned.  He 
sighed,  he  had  been  so  free,  so  guiltless,  harm- 
ing no  one,  now  somehow  this  girl  had  trod 
straight  into  his  life  and  brought,  as  woman  al- 
ways does,  difficulties,  chains,  hostilities,  with 
her. 

Of  course  it  was  easy  to  jump  on  Ben  and 
away  for  a  hundred  miles  to  West  or  North  or 
South  or  East.  There  was  no  tangible  ob- 
stacle to  that.  But  even  if  he  did  that  now,  he 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE        275 

felt  his  free  happiness,  his  lightness  and  ease 
of  conscience  would  have  departed.  His 
happy  camps  were  gone.  If  he  left  her  to 
her  fate  would  not  her  shadow  stand  by  his 
camp  fire  every  evening?  Would  not  her  dark 
blue  reproachful  eyes  seem  to  gaze  upon  him 
from  everywhere  ?  Yes ;  there  was  nothing  for 
it  now  but  to  go  ahead. 

Yet  the  Mormons  had  been  friendly  to  him, 
the  unknown  stranger,  he  had  eaten  of  their 
food,  bought,  it  is  true,  but  still  essential  to  him 
and  supplied  by  them.  To  steal  away  their 
daughter  in  return  seemed  to  him  unworthy 
and  dishonourable,  and  yet  to  give  her  against 
her  will  to  one  of  those  hideous  bulging  old 
Mormons !  That  was  not  right  on  their  part. 
Perhaps  he  was  justified  .  .  .  ? 

But  he  was  not  happy,  and  he  wished  he  and 
Ben  had  gone  on,  and  that  he  had  never  seen 
the  Mormons. 

Suddenly,  as  he  sat  there,  his  chin  resting 
on  his  hands,  his  shoulders  hunched  over  his 
ears  almost,  and  his  eyes  staring  gloomily  into 
the  heart  of  the  golden  cedar  wood  coals,  a 


276     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

little  sound  came  to  him,  a  pant,  a  sigh,  a  step. 

He  looked  up,  and  she  was  there  in  all  the 
glory  of  her  sixteen  years,  her  bright  curling 
hair,  her  deep  blue  eyes,  and  smiling  crimson 
mouth.  A  fresh  pink  cotton  dress  reached  just 
to  her  ankles,  her  hair  was  confined  by  a  pink 
band.  There  was  a  bright  pink  in  her  cheek. 
Coming  from  behind  a  manzanita  bush,  she 
looked  like  one  of  its  radiant  blossoms  taking 
life  and  girlhood  to  itself. 

He  sprang  to  his  feet;  she  was  so  lovely  as 
she  looked  up  at  him  questioningly,  that  he 
obeyed  a  sudden  impulse  and  lifted  her  right 
up  in  his  strong  arms  off  the  ground,  and  kissed 
her.  She  laughed,  and  put  her  arms  round 
his  fine  throat  and  kissed  him  back,  sweetly, 
innocently. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad  to  be  with  you!"  she  said 
as  he  set  her  down,  and  they  both  sat  side  by 
side  on  the  log,  his  arm  still  round  her. 

"You  are  my  Centaur,  aren't  you?  You'll 
take  me  away?" 

Ah,  farewell  for  ever  to  the  Tonto !  But  his 
lips  were  quite  firm  as  he  answered: 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE        277 

"Come  now,  if  you  like  .  .  .  this  very  min- 
ute." 

"No,  oh  no,"  she  answered.  "We  should  be 
seen  and  tracked  directly.  They  have  good 
horses  all  of  them,  good  rifles  and  pistols,  and 
heaps  of  friends.  What  could  you  do,  just  one 
man  fighting  the  whole  lot  of  them?"  He  saw 
her  exquisite  colour  fade  out,  her  eyes  grow 
wide  at  the  thought. 

"Our  only  hope,"  she  went  on,  speaking  in 
a  very  low  tone,  though  there  were  only  the 
bright-eyed  jays  gazing  down  at  them,  "is  to 
steal  away  to-night,  very  quietly  in  the  dark, 
and  get  a  long,  long  way  ahead  of  them  before 
they  find  we're  gone.  Don't  you  think  so?" 

Edgar  nodded.     "Perhaps,  darling." 

"Listen,  they  all  go  up  to  the  Chief  Elder's 
house  to-night,  to  a  prayer  meeting,  and  I 
shall  be  left  alone  about  six,  just  as  it's  dark; 
then  I'll  come  to  you  here,  and  if  you  and  Ben 
are  ready,  we'll  go  then  .  .  .  ride  out  to  Flag- 
staff, you  know  the  way?" 

"Yes,  I  know  all  the  Basin;  it's  about 
seventy-five  miles  to  Flagstaff,  we  ought  to  get 


278     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

there  in  the  morning."  Then  he  added,  draw- 
ing her  close,  "And  when  we  get  to  Flagstaff, 
and  you  are  free  and  among  the  Gentiles,  do 
you  want  to  stay  with  me?  Or  is  it  only  Ezra 
you  want  to  escape?" 

She  looked  up  at  him,  a  beautiful  flame  of 
love  in  her  eyes. 

"I  want  to  stay  with  you  for  ever  and  ever, 
and  'work  for  you  all  the  days  of  my  life." 

Edgar  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed. 
The  last  proposition  sounded  so  quaint  to  Eng- 
lish ears. 

"Sweet  one,  we'll  be  married  in  Flagstaff  if 
we  can,  and  as  you  say  we'll  be  together  for 
ever  and  ever,  but  I  don't  think  we'll  have  to 
wTork  very  hard,  either  of  us.  We'll  go  all 
round  the  world  and  see  everything.  Will  you 
like  that?" 

"Anywhere  with  you  will  be  heaven." 

The  jays  above  were  very  interested  in  all 
this,  and  screeched  loudly  at  intervals.  They 
were  sorry  when  the  two  human  beings,  after 
much  talk  and  many  kisses,  rose  from  the  log, 
and  the  girl  stole  softly  away  alone  through  the 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE        279 

manzanita.  They  came  down  and  flew  round 
her,  their  brilliant  blue  plumage  flashing  tur- 
quoise in  the  sunlight.  "Edna!  Edna!"  they 
seemed  crying.  "You  are  going  away  from 
us." 

Edgar,  left  alone,  stood  gazing  at  the  glow- 
ing coals  at  his  feet  for  a  time  in  silence.  Then 
with  a  sigh,  he  got  his  sketching  things  to- 
gether, and  strolled  away  on  foot  into  the 
golden  forest.  He  would  leave  Ben  to  rest 
till  the  evening.  He  had  much  before  him. 

Evening  came,  and  with  it  the  soft  and  sud- 
den dark,  and  it  found  Edgar  waiting  beneath 
the  redwoods,  standing  by  Ben,  one  arm  flung 
over  the  saddle.  Not  a  spark  of  fire  or  light 
remained  to  mark  the  camp ;  all  his  simple  ne- 
cessities were  packed  most  carefully  and  tightly 
on  the  horse.  As  he  galloped,  not  a  thing 
would  move  nor  rub  his  glossy  skin.  Edgar, 
in  years  of  camping,  had  learned  that  wonder- 
ful art  to  pack  a  horse  with  weight  that  he  does 
not  feel,  and  with  things  that  cannot  move  the 
fraction  of  an  inch.  Now  he  waited,  a  fever 


280     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

of  impatience  in  his  veins.  Minutes  passed 
and  she  did  not  come,  and  while  on  this  morning 
there  had  been  hesitation  in  his  mind  while  he 
felt  sure  of  her,  now  when  it  seemed  after  all 
he  might  lose  her,  an  overwhelming  feeling  of 
disappointment,  of  loss,  swept  over  him. 

He  grew  perfectly  mad  standing  there  in  the 
frosty  darkness  waiting  in  vain,  and  felt  at 
last  he  could  go  down  and  storm  the  house  and 
shoot  everyone  on  sight,  set  fire  to  the  house  if 
necessary,  and  smoke  all  the  rats  out,  do  any- 
thing in  fact,  so  long  as  he  got  her  out  of  it 
and  into  his  arms  again.  But  he  held  himself 
in  check  as  long  as  he  could.  She  would  come 
no  doubt,  so  many  things  might  have  delayed 
her.  But  an  hour  passed  since  the  fall  of 
dark,  and  she  had  not  appeared. 

He  decided  to  reconnoitre  on  foot,  and  lead- 
ing Ben,  he  slowly  and  silently  passed  between 
the  trees  towards  the  back  of  the  Mormon's 
dwelling. 

He  prowled  round  the  house  in  the  scented 
starlit  darkness,  but  there  was  neither  light  nor 
sound  from  it.  It  seemed  dark,  deserted  as  a 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE        281 

tomb.  Then  going  back  a  little  way  from  it 
and  standing  on  tiptoe,  craning  bis  whole  six 
feet  of  height  to  its  utmost,  he  caught  a  flicker 
of  light  from  the  roof ;  a  small  uncovered  sky- 
light in  the  slope  of  the  tiles  at  the  back  made 
a  patch  of  yellow  in  the  darkness.  Silently  as 
a  cat,  Edgar  swung  his  long  limbs  up  an  angle 
of  the  house,  helped  first  by  the  water  butt, 
then  by  an  old  walnut  tree,  till  he  could  scram- 
ble on  to  the  roof,  to  the  skylight,  and  look 
down.  And  then  he  saw  all  he  wanted,  more 
than  he  wanted.  Almost  an  exclamation  broke 
from  him,  but  he  choked  it  down.  There  was 
need  of  swift  noiseless  work.  She  was  there 
alone,  tied  with  her  arms  behind  her  to  the  great 
main  pole  that  supported  in  the  centre  the 
main  beam  of  the  living  room  roof.  Her  hat 
and  cloak  were  thrown  on  a  neighbouring 
chair.  In  a  flash  it  occurred  to  him  she  had 
been  on  the  point  of  leaving  the  house  when 
she  had  been  caught,  and  precautions  taken 
against  her  renewing  her  attempt.  He 
rapped  on  the  glass  skylight.  He  saw  her 
start  and  turn  her  face  upward.  He  saw  ter- 


282     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

ror  and  delight  struggling  together  in  it,  as  she 
saw  him.  In  an  instant  he  had  wrenched  out 
the  little  glass  casement  and  his  legs  were 
dangling  through  the  hole,  his  hands  clinging 
to  the  window  ledge. 

"To  the  right,  to  the  right,"  she  called  in  a 
whisper,  as  she  saw  his  feet  swinging,  trying 
to  find  the  cross-beam  to  rest  on.  He  found 
it,  and  from  there  it  was  an  easy  leap  to  the 
floor. 

"Oh,  leave  me,  if  they  find  you,  they'll  kill 
you,"  she  whispered  as  he  came  up  to  her. 

Edgar  had  out  his  great  clasp  knife,  and  cut 
the  cords  that  bound  her  as  she  spoke.  He  put 
his  mouth  to  her  ear. 

"Quick !  To  the  door !  The  horse  is  there," 
he  drew  her  to  the  main  door;  it  was  bolted 
heavily  and  locked. 

"Not-  that,"  she  whispered  back,  and  darted 
to  the  small  side-door  just  left  on  the  latch; 
this  led  through  a  sort  of  scullery.  He  fol- 
lowed, swift,  silent  as  a  shadow.  The  next  in- 
stant they  had  passed  out  to  the  serene  and 
starry  night. 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE        283 

Ben  was  waiting.  Not  a  sound  did  he  make. 
He  caught  silence  as  he  caught  joy  or  grief 
from  his  master.  Without  a  sound  Edgar 
lifted  the  girl  up  and  put  her  on  his  back  while 
he  stood  without  a  quiver,  then  Edgar  leapt 
into  the  saddle. 

"Keep  tight  hold  of  my  belt,  and  cling  with 
your  knees,"  he  breathed  to  her.  Then  he 
headed  the  horse  in  the  direction  of  the  main 
road  to  Flagstaff,  and  leaning  forward  let  the 
reins  fall  slack  on  his  neck.  This  Ben  knew 
was  the  signal  to  gallop,  and  like  a  shooting 
star  in  the  heavens,  or  the  sea-lion  in  his  swim- 
ming rush,  Ben  shot  from  the  shadow  of  the 
house  down  the  long  starlit  alley  before  him 
between  the  pines. 

Soundless,  with  flying  hoofs  and  tail  borne 
out  a  straight  black  streamer  on  the  wind  of 
his  flight,  with  the  two  human  beings  seated  on 
his  back,  the  man  erect  and  easy  as  always,  and 
the  girl  clinging  desperately  with  her  knees  to 
his  sides,  'her  arms  round  Edgar's  waist,  and 
her  whole  body  bowed  down,  oppressed  by  the 
tremendous  speed,  the  great  beast  tore  on,  neck 


284     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

stretched  out,  nostrils  wide,  and  elastic  limbs 
flying  through  the  soft  dark  air.  Up  one  long 
silent  avenue  and  down  another,  sometimes 
arched  over  by  beeches,  sometimes  flanked  by 
oaks,  then  by  pines,  then  by  oaks  again,  then 
maple,  cedar,  and  fir,  but  on  always,  on  with- 
out pause  through  these  lofty  silent  sentinels, 
endless  line  upon  line  of  motionless  trees  under 
the  flashing  light  of  the  stars.  At  first  there 
was  no  sound,  then  far  off  in  the  distance,  there 
was  a  faint  whoop  in  the  frosty  air. 

The  girl  clung  tighter  in  a  perfect  agony  to 
Edgar's  waist  as  her  quick  ear  caught  it. 

"Oh,"  she  breathed,  against  his  spine,  "Ed- 
gar, they  have  found  out.  They've  started.'* 

"Don't  worry,"  he  returned.  "Ben's  heard 
them." 

It  was  the  first  time  they  had  spoken  since 
the  start.  The  whirl  of  awful  terrified  break- 
ing loose,  and  the  wild  speed  of  the  gallop 
literally  had  taken  away  power  of  speech  from 
the  girl.  And  in  Edgar's  brain  there  was  a 
tension  that  left  no  inclination  for  words. 

Ben  had  heard  that  faint,  far  cry,  and  he 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE        285 

felt  the  thoughts  of  horror  that  passed  through 
the  brains  of  those  he  carried.  Fast  as  he  was 
going  he  was  yet  only  using  half  his  powers, 
not  knowing  how  long  his  master  would  want 
him  to  keep  up  the  pace,  and  holding  as  his 
habit  was,  much  strength  in  reserve. 

Now  he  put  on  extra  steam;  they  felt  the 
motion  of  his  hind-quarters  quicken  and 
strengthen  beneath  them,  the  magnificent  for- 
ward bounds  became  smoother,  more  lightning 
swift. 

A  storm  of  those  faint,  far  cries,  broke  some- 
where in  the  distance ;  the  girl's  terrified  mental 
vision  could  see  it  all,  the  whole  scene  those 
cries  indicated.  The  Mormons  had  turned  out 
in  a  body.  They  were  finding  their  horses, 
mounting,  hallooing  to  each  other,  getting  into 
a  band  for  the  pursuit.  They  all  had  rifles, 
would  they  get  within  firing  range?  Would 
they  shoot  Edgar?  Shoot  Ben?  Recapture 
her?  Her  brain  seemed  alight  and  burning. 
The  thought  that  these  two,  her  rescuers,  might 
be  sacrificed  through  their  effort  to  save  her, 
was  so  terrible  that  she  felt  almost  she  ought 


286     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

to  slip  off  and  run  back  to  her  pursuers,  give 
herself  up,  and  end  the  chase  and  danger,  but 
the  square  white  face  and  the  bulging  form  of 
Ezra  rose  before  her,  and  involuntarily  her 
slender  arms  tightened  in  a  straining  clutch 
round  Edgar's  lithe,  sinewy  waist,  and  she 
pressed  her  soft  cheek  close  into  the  little  hol- 
low between  his  shoulder  blades. 

The  cries  grew  less  behind  them,  and  still 
the  great  horse  tore  on.  The  wonderful  joy 
of  speed  got  hold  of  her.  Her  fears  dropped 
from  her  as  a  falling  mantle.  They  would 
win!  No  horse  could  beat  this  pace,  and  he, 
this  great,  black,  glorious  beast,  was  bearing 
her  away  to  love,  to  freedom,  to  a  life,  to  worlds 
she  had  not  known,  would  never  have  known 
had  he  not  come  down  the  road  to  Fir  that  sun- 
lit evening.  Now,  as  the  air  fled  past  her, 
as  the  smooth  rocking  motion  lifted  and  low- 
ered her  as  waves  in  the  sea,  she  realised  she 
was  going  forward  to  the  unknown,  and  the 
unknown  has  always  a  joyous  call  to  youth. 

Behind  her  the  settlement  in  the  great  forest 
shut  in  by  the  unchanging  pines,  the  hills,  the 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE        287 

singing  brook,  her  duties  from  dawn  till  dark 
in  that  square  frame  house,  the  presence  and 
companionship  of  Ezra  till  she  grew  old  in 
serving  him.  The  beauty  of  the  forest  of  the 
Tonto  Basin  was  unparalleled,  superb,  but  she 
would  not  be  allowed  to  wander  amongst  its 
beauties,  its  forest  glades,  its  golden  slopes,  she 
would  be  mewed  in  a  kitchen,  baking,  stewing, 
washing,  mending,  never  with  time  to  go  hardly 
beyond  the  brook  or  to  the  summit  of  the  hill- 
she  knew  the  existence  of  the  women  in  Fir. 

And  now  she  was  being  borne  away  from  all 
that,  borne  to  life.  This  was  life  itself.  She 
seemed  to  drink  in  great  draughts  of  it  as  they 
fled  down  those  long  silent  avenues  under  the 
sparkling  heavens,  and  instead  of  Ezra  she 
clasped  this  slight  and  beautiful  form  full  of 
strength  and  grace,  -the  mere  touch  of  which 
filled  her  with  delight.  To  hear  him  speak,  to 
see  him  smile,  to  feel  his  eyes  upon  her  seemed 
to  lift  her  soul  away  and  away  to  other  worlds 
of  ecstasy,  and  they  were  going  to  be  together 
for  uncounted  periods  of  time,  perhaps  for  al- 
ways. Existence  spread  before  her  as  one 


288     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

great  pulse  of  tremendous  joy.  The  picture 
had  come  true;  her  lonely  gazings  on  it,  her 
tears,  her  hopes,  her  prayers,  her  wild  dreams, 
her  longings,  she  remembered  them  all,  and 
they  had  welded  themselves  into  this. 

Suddenly  her  dream  scattered  as  a  shining 
bubble  seems  to  break  into  shafts  and  splinters 
of  coloured  light,  it  broke  before  reality. 

She  felt  beneath  her  that  sudden  redoubled 
plunging  of  the  hoofs  that  a  galloping  horse 
makes  before  a  leap.  She  heard  a  deep  in- 
drawn breath  go  through  the  form  she  held. 
She  looked  past  Edgar's  shoulder,  and  there, 
in  their  very  path,  she  saw  one  of  those  huge 
pits  that  occur  here  and  there  throughout 
this  country.  Vast,  menacing,  devouring,  it 
yawned  there  waiting  for  them,  easily  discern- 
ible in  the  starlight,  a  great  pitch  black  circle 
of  shadow.  They  were  upon  it  so  suddenly 
there  was  no  time  to  change  their  course  or 
stop.  Edgar  sat  like  a  statue,  not  even  a  fin- 
ger tightened  on  the  rein;  all  now  depended  on 
Ben,  if  he  had  the  power  to  reach  the  other 
.side  of  that  great  gulf  or  not.  His,  the  de- 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE        289 

cision,  the  planning  how  and  when  to  take  that 
awful  leap,  not  one  touch,  one  movement  must 
disturb  the  working  of  that  great  brain  that 
lay  within  the  noble  lovely  head.  The  girl, 
with  eyes  wide  open,  strained,  and  bloodless 
lips,  stared  at  the  chasm.  This  was  death. 
No  animal  could  leap  that  abyss. 

Ben  had  smelt  the  hollow  of  the  pit  as  they 
approached.  Every  fibre,  every  muscle  was 
preparing  for  it:  as  he  neared  the  lip  of  the 
gulf,  treacherous  with  bramble  and  under- 
growth, he  gathered  his  legs  beneath  him,  with 
terrific  force  struck  the  loose  soil  a  great  pound- 
ing blow,  and  then  soared — there  is  no  other 
word  for  it — high  into  the  air  over  the  gaping 
void. 

In  spite  of  the  terror  of  the  moment  there 
was  an  amazing  joy  in  it.  The  girl's  heart 
leapt  with  the  horse,  exhilaration,  triumph,  the 
pride  of  conquest — the  conquest  of  boundless 
spaces,  surged  up  in  her,  and  poured  through 
all  her  veins.  Up,  up,  Ben  seemed  to  go,  for 
ever  flying,  then  down,  and  braced  as  the  riders 
both  were  for  jerk  and  jolt  of  his  descent,  there 


290     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

was  hardly  any,  he  came  down  on  the  other 
side,  as  a  deer  does  from  its  flying  bounds, 
seemingly  on  rubber.  They  heard  the  lip  of 
the  gulf  crumble  and  give,  and  the  soil  and 
stones  fall  into  it  with  a  roar  behind  them,  but 
Ben  was  again  in  his  smooth  lightning  gallop, 
half-way  down  the  next  long  avenue.  A  sob 
broke  from  the  girl,  of  joy,  of  great  elation. 

"Are  you  frightened,  darling?" 

"No,  oh,  no,  so  very  happy ;  Edgar,  if  I  died 
now  I  shouldn't  care.  I  felt  I  knew  every- 
thing in  a  thousand  lives  when  he  gave  that 
great  soaring  leap.  Wasn't  it  Heaven?" 

"As  we  got  over  .  .  .  yes,  it  was." 

"Did  you  think  he  would  do  it?" 

"I  couldn't  tell.  I  thought  so,"  he  added 
after  a  minute. 

"We  must  rest  him  soon,  he  can't  go  on  like 
this,"  and  he  laid  his  hand  on  his  neck. 

"Ben,  Ben,  quiet  there." 

Almost  at  once  the  gallop  subsided  into  the 
long  easy  canter  which  is  the  horse's  natural 
pace;  quickly,  easily,  in  long  loping  strides, 
they  still  sped  incredibly  fast  over  the  ground. 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE        291 

"Let's  camp  here,"  Edgar  said  presently. 
"We  can  well  stay  for  a  little  while.  I  can't 
see  how  they  can  catch  us  up  now." 

They  had  entered  a  truly  glorious  camping 
ground;  the  forest  stood  away  here.  They 
were  descending  into  a  beautiful  open  valley 
ringed  round  by  rising  hills,  a  flat  round  bowl 
open  to  the  sun,  with  one  of  the  dashing  spark- 
ling streams,  an  off-shoot  from  the  Tonto 
River,  flowing  through  it.  Their  road  wound 
across  it,  over  the  stream  and  up  the  other  side 
where  trees  rose  again  in  feathery  loveliness 
against  the  sky.  Here  in  the  valley  only  a  few 
great  cedars  stood  dotted  about,  and  these  not 
the  great  dark  cedar  of  Lebanon  with  its  hint 
of  stately  gloom,  but  the  smaller  more  bushy 
cedar  of  Arizona,  the  foliage  of  which  is  at  this 
season,  a  bright  golden  colour,  studded  all  over 
with  small  dark  purple  berries. 

Edgar  drew  Ben  gently  to  a  halt  beneath 
one  of  these  golden  trees  where  the  laughing 
stream  dashed  by,  and  there  was  a  plateau  of 
finest  pure  white  sand  that  looked  like  the  salt 
in  the  salt  cellars  of  an  English  dining-table. 


292     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEX 

"Darling,  darling,  welcome  home,"  he  said 
as  he  lifted  the  girl  to  the  ground,  and  there 
they  stood  alone  beneath  the  stars,  lighted  by 
the  most  wondrous  lamps,  sheltered  by  the  fin- 
est cedar  roof,  sung  to  by  the  bewitching  voice 
of  running  water,  canopied  round  by  curtains 
of  soft  dark  air,  and  in  that  mighty  number — 
Two  which  means  a  world. 

The  girl  flung  her  arms  round  him  in  rap- 
ture. 

"Oh,  Edgar,  I  shall  die  of  happiness." 

They  kissed  there  in  the  solitude.  Such 
kisses  as  are  only  given  and  taken  when  the 
mind  is  roused  into  supreme  elation. 

Then  they  turned  to  the  horse,  and  he 
neighed  gently  as  he  smelt  the  water,  clear 
life-giving  stream  that  ran  too  rapidly  to  freeze 
in  the  coldest  night. 

For  a  good  half -hour  they  waited  on  him, 
seeing  to  all  his  wants,  petting  and  praising 
him;  then  when  he  sank  down  on  the  sandy 
space  by  the  cedar  to  rest,  they  turned  and 
threw  themselves  into  each  other's  arms.  Food 
was  nothing  to  them,  nor  drink;  kisses  and 


THE  RIDE  IXTO  LIFE        293 

contact  and  the  dear  embrace  of  each  other  was 
all  they  needed.  The  pressure  of  his  arms 
round  her,  the  touch  of  her  soft  wealth  of  curl- 
ing hair  all  shaken  loose  long  since  from  its 
ribbon  band,  these  were  enough.  They  lay 
locked  in  each  other's  arms  beneath  the  cedar 
boughs  on  the  friendly  earth,  his  cloak  thrown 
over  them  both,  shut  into  that  magic  chamber 
of  delight  where  neither  cold,  nor  fatigue,  nor 
hunger,  nor  any  other  ill  can  come,  and  to 
which  love  alone  can  give  the  key. 

Orion  had  wheeled  down  towards  the  hori- 
zon, a  faint  quiver  of  grey  seemed  to  lift  the 
curtain  of  night  in  the  eastern  sky  when  the 
girl  suddenly  awoke.  A  sense  of  fear  filled 
her.  She  could  not  tell  what  had  roused  her. 
Edgar  still  slept  unconscious.  Her  first 
thought  was  Ben.  She  looked  for  him  beside 

O 

them,  yes  he  was  there  sleeping  too,  then,  ah, 
what  was  that  dark  lump  creeping,  creeping  up 
nearer  Ben?  With  a  feeling  it  menaced  him, 
the  darling  one  that  she  loved  only  second  to 
her  lover,  she  sprang  up,  she  was  on  her  feet. 
In  the  dim  starlight  she  saw  a  sudden  gleam  of 


294     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

steel.  She  rushed  forward  just  as  the  ap- 
proaching lump  was  close  to  the  sleeping  horse. 
There  was  a  smothered  scream,  an  oath,  a 
scrabble  on  the  sand,  and  then  she  and  Ezra 
were  rolling  over  and  over  towards  the  brook, 
as  she  clung  with  a  wild  cat's  grip  to  his  wrist, 
the  wrist  that  held  the  knife  with  which  he 
meant  to  kill  or  ham-string  Ben.  The  horse 
was  on  his  feet  snorting.  Edgar  had  leapt  to 
his  feet  and  seized  his  rifle,  Edna  and  the  Mor- 
mon, still  wrestling  for  the  knife,  had  rolled 
down  into  the  slashing  stream.  In  a  second 
Edgar  was  on  the  brink,  the  girl  with  the 
wrested  knife  had  struggled  to  the  other  side. 
Edgar  brought  his  rifle  butt  down  on  the  man's 
head  just  as  he  was  dragging  the  girl  beneath 
the  water.  It  was  only  a  single  blow,  but  the 
man's  skull  gave  in ;  he  sank  back  like  a  stone, 
and  the  next  moment  the  stream  had  doubled 
him  up,  pushed  him  down,  borne  him  on,  and 
now  rushed  by  laughing.  The  Tonto  is  ever 
laughing. 

A  drenched,  bruised,  but  triumphant  Edna 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE        295 

crossed  back  to  him,  holding  the  long  steel 
knife. 

"Oh,  Edgar,  I  saved  him.  I'm  so  glad! 
Think  if  he'd  murdered  Ben!" 

Edgar  looked  in  dismay  at  her. 

"You  will  freeze  before  the  morning.  Tear 
off  those  things,  I'll  give  you  a  suit  of  mine." 
He  ran  to  Ben's  pack  which  lay  under  the  cedar 
and  got  out  an  old  suit  of  jeans,  and  Edna, 
laughing  and  happy,  took  them  from  him  and 
passed  behind  the  shelter  of  the  tree. 

Edgar  went  back  to  the  stream  and  down  it 
a  little  way,  looking  for  the  body  of  Ezra.  He 
thought  he  was  dead,  but  he  wanted  to  make 
sure.  A  little  way  down  he  found  it  crumpled 
up  and  resting  against  a  snag  in  the  stream, 
the  great  white  face  turned  upwards  to  the 
stars.  Oddly  enough,  the  log  had  caught  and 
stayed  him  just  by  where  on  the  bank  to  a  small 
cedar  his  horse  stood  tethered;  the  horse  he 
had  generally  mis-used  and  now  ridden  almost 
to  death  to  come  up  with  them  in  his  mad  pur- 
suit. 


296     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

Edgar  turned  to  the  animal  which  was  snort- 
ing and  quivering  as  he  smelt  the  dead  man  in 
the  stream.  Edgar  soothed  him  with  comfort- 
ing words  and  set  him  free.  Then  he  went 
back  to  Edna.  She  looked  a  queer  little  figure 
in  his  coat  many  sizes  too  large  for  her,  over 
which  her  hair  fell  in  a  great  cape,  but  she  was 
not  thinking  of  herself  as  she  came  towards  him. 

"Oh,  Edgar,  there  may.be  more  of  them! 
Ezra  only  probably  pressed  on  ahead.  We 
stayed  here  too  long.  We  ought  not  to  have 
slept.  Let's  get  away  now  as  quickly  as  we 
can." 

Edgar  nodded. 

"Quick,  get  the  pack  up  and  your  clothes. 
They'll  dry  in  the  sun.  Ben  boy,  can  you  do 
another  gallop?  We'd  best  be  out  of  here." 

Ben  pricked  his  ears  and  gave  a  little  whin- 
ney. 

Their  simple  camp  was  soon  struck. 
Within  a  few  minutes  they  had  mounted,  and 
were  away  up  the  opposite  slope  across  the 
stream  that  went  tumbling  and  laughing  on 
its  way.  What  were  dead  men  to  it?  It  had 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE       297 

seen  many  since  first  in  the  dawning  of  the 
world  it  had  broken  loose  from  its  ice  chains 
and  become  a  stream. 

Just  as  Ben  got  half-way  up  the  slope  of 
the  opposite  side,  a  band  of  Mormons  broke 
into  the  bowl-like  valley.  Ezra's  riderless 
horse  dashed  straight  into  their  midst,  and  look- 
ing across  the  stream  by  the  strengthening  twi- 
light of  the  dawn,  they  saw  the  black  flying 
blot  which  was  Ben  ascending  the  opposite  in- 
cline. 

With  oaths  and  curses  they  dismounted. 
They  were  too  late,  they  knew  they  could  only 
overtake  that  wonder  horse  by  the  hare  and 
tortoise  trick,  never  in  straight  riding.  The 
light  was  bad,  but  still  they  would  fire  into  the 
brown  and  hope  that  the  pot  shot  might  find 
its  mark. 

They  knelt,  each  man  raised  his  rifle,  took 
the  best  aim  he  could  towards  that  moving  spot, 
and  fired. 

A  hail  of  bullets  came  whistling  through  the 
air  close  by  his  satin  sides,  close  past  his  for- 
ward pricked  ears,  one  sent  up  the  dust  just 


298     DAUGHTERS  OF  HEAVEN 

by  his  fore-foot,  but  all  the  shots  went  wide. 
Ben  raced  up  the  slope  as  his  master  never  let 
him  race  up  hill  before,  and  with  one  of  his 
great  flying  leaps  cleared  the  rim  of  the  valley, 
went  over  the  crest  of  the  mounting  track,  and 
simply  bolted  over  the  wide  flat  plain  that  lay 
above.  Here  were  trees,  but  not  dangerously 
close  together.  Like  an  Indian's  arrow  he 
sped  on,  and  at  the  moment  when  he  cleared  the 
crest  of  the  hill,  the  sun  came  over  the  edge, 
and  the  whole  sky  flared  up  in  a  radiant  glow- 
ing pink.  Great  shafts  of  red  gold  light  came 
stabbing  through  the  trees.  The  branches 
tossed  and  swayed  in  it,  and  from  every  side 
burst  a  chorus  of  bird  notes,  the  voice  of  the 
forest,  a  great  psean  of  triumph,  of  jubilation 
with  which  a  thousand  little  bird  throats  greet 
a  new  day. 

And  so  in  the  pink  on-rush  of  light,  in  the 
frosty  gleaming  dawn  with  the  birds  singing, 
they  drew  towards  Flagstaff,  town  of  the  Gen- 
tiles, outpost  of  civilisation,  threshold  of  the 
new  world  she  was  to  see. 

"Darling,"  Edgar  murmured,  bending  back 


THE  RIDE  INTO  LIFE        299 

towards  her,  "what  a  ride  you  have  had, 
seventy-five  miles  into  Flagstaff." 

She  laid  warm  lips  on  his  neck.  There  was 
a  sombre  glory  in  her  eyes. 

"Oh,  it  has  been  so  much  more  than  that, 
Edgar,  it  has  been  a  ride  into  Life'' 


FINIS 


PRESS  OPINIONS  OF  VICTORIA 
CROSS'S  WORKS 

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writes  as  we  may  hope  our  descendants  in  the  next 
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